


Me and the Devil

by Olliesmiles



Series: Singing Voices [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Confused Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Dance fighting, Disassociation, Flower-Language, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hidden Talents, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Magic, NO DEATHS, Not a reader insert, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phil is mentioned like once, Phil plays saxophone lmao, Secrets, Singing, Song Lyrics, Techno is a Disney Prince(ss), Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Sings, Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is awesome, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur and his guitar, not a permadeath au but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olliesmiles/pseuds/Olliesmiles
Summary: Techno is used to the voices in his head. Everyday, they sing. That’s just how they are.Follow Techno and Tommy’s journey of self/triple-self discovery and learn about the power of voices with them.side note: this story does have (what i’m told are) moments of disassociation so please be warned and safe :)
Relationships: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & Original Female Character(s), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Singing Voices [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133096
Comments: 35
Kudos: 177





	1. Harps of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> This is roughly based off my other work, “Singing Voices”. Blame the user Starbreeze honestly. They made me want to write more about it even if it’s not, like, at all what they asked for. 
> 
> It might help if you read that first (just for context on what i’m talking about when i talk about his voices), but i’m not forcing you to do anything. 
> 
> Uploads will be incredibly random because i have no plot planned :D
> 
> I made a playlist:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3sqGio6NlWc9u1ISwx98UL?si=_9lvyWuETSW1A3H3QNOkcQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this story does have (what i’m told are) moments of disassociation so please be warned and safe :)

The voices had always taken a surprising liking to Tommy. Techno never understood it, honestly. He understood Wilbur and Phil, especially Wilbur; the air itself seemed to always sing around him, even when he wasn’t humming or plucking the strings on his guitar. The voices were always consistently bewildered and delighted when Techno would pass by the man, saying that they could hear melodies around him that they hadn’t heard in years. 

Techno had, a long time ago, sucked up his pride and gave into his curiosity and asked if they could sing him one of the songs. The voices had immediately shut that idea down. 

“No, absolutely not.”

There was one voice that was slightly deeper than the other’s. They never revealed information they didn’t want to, and their choice of wording when giving Techno advice was always ever-so-slightly terrifying. 

“Techno, these songs are songs that even we shouldn’t know!”

The other voice was higher, and when they sang it reminded Techno of the one time he heard Nikki sing. They also never revealed any information they didn’t want to, but they were kinder with their word choice and mainly consoled Techno on the bad days. 

Anyway.

Phil, he understood too, because the people Techno loved, the voices did too. Though it probably helped that he liked to hum to himself when working on projects. Every time he did it and the voices even caught the slightest tidbit of the song, they would immediately start humming or singing it softly along with him. 

Techno thought it sounded beautiful. 

He’s getting off track. 

Back to Tommy. 

Tommy never sang. Oh sure, he would scream lyrics of a song at you for shits and giggles, but he never sang. At first, Techno thought they simply liked him because Techno did. Then one day Tommy had shown up at his house, bloody and broken, laying on the ground in a ball, mumbling to himself. 

“Tommy?” 

Techno had sighed when the voices had told him Tommy would be here soon. Now he feels like a dick for it, watching his little brother curl into himself more as Techno took a cautious step towards him. 

“Tommy, it’s Techno,” He said quietly, trying to make his voice sound like Phil’s did when he was taking care of someone and didn’t want to scare them, “Can I pick you up?”

Techno wasn’t sure if Tommy had heard him at first, and prepared to repeat himself, but then the voices piped in, “It’s alright,” the higher pitched voice said, “He nodded, it’s alright to go pick him up now.” 

“Carefully, Techno, carefully.” The other voice said in a whisper.

Techno grunted in acknowledgement and carefully scooped Tommy into his arms. Tommy had collapsed not too far from the door, so Techno tried to quickly carry him into the house, only for Tommy to groan and try to wriggle out of Techno’s arms. His eyes were still closed from exhaustion, but being woken up and carried somewhere when you weren’t sure what was happening is _terrifying_ , so Techno understood, he really did. 

However, that doesn’t mean that once he finally got them both into the house and onto the bed in his room, trying to get Tommy relaxed enough for him to even take off his shirt, not even tend to his wounds yet, and getting the voices to quiet down so he could _fucking_ _concentrate_ wasn’t a pain in the ass. 

Once he finally got the blood-soaked shirt off of the small boy, he left the room to quickly grab a washcloth to try to wipe some of the blood off Tommy’s chest (as that seemed to be where the largest gash was). Once carefully wiping down the boy’s torso, the biggest injury seemed to be a large gash going from his left shoulder across to his right side, just under where his ribs ended. The injury seemed to be about an inch deep, something that if Techno hadn’t gone on a raid the previous day he would have had enough regen potions to make sure it wouldn’t scar. 

Now he was kicking himself for it. The scar might end up being a physical representation of trauma Tommy might have gotten from whatever or _who_ ever gave him the injury. Techno hates that thought, and quickly pushes it out of his head in order to tune into whatever the voices have been talking frantically about for the past minute. 

“Oh god, that’s a lot of blood.”

“Do we even have the supplies for all of this?”

“Maybe Phil can help us make more regen potions later,”

“God, I hope so.”

“This poor kid…”

”What even happened??”

“Ya think I know?!” Techno quietly yelled, exasperated, “I would’a expected you to know more than me. Ya always do.”

The voices went silent.

No more than 5 minutes later, they started berating him on his terrible healing practices. 

“No, the gauze is on the left, Techno.”

“You missed a spot.”

“Come on, he looks like he’s in serious pain, Techno!”

“Stop messing around.”

“Where are the health potions?”

“I think he moved the chest that had them up here downstairs.”

“Techno! That’s highly irresponsible!”

“I’m tryin’ my best, here!” Techno finally growled in exasperation. “I dunno what happened, I’m worried about ‘im, an’ now I've gotta deal with you two on top a’ that?”

After a few seconds of seemingly guilty silence, one of the voices said, “...I’m sorry, Techno. We seem to keep messing everything up, huh?” sounding crestfallen. 

After a few seconds where Techno tried to still his shaking hands and regulate his breathing, trying to calm down before answering, the other voice huffed out a reluctant “sorry,” and promising to be silent so he could focus. 

Taking control of his body again, Techno resumed trying to wrap all of Tommy’s injuries. 

After what felt like days of wrapping and disinfecting all of the wounds he could, Techno felt like he was dead on his feet. He climbed very slowly and carefully onto the bed, trying not to disturb Tommy. He laid down, shuffling until he was facing the ceiling with Tommy’s head on his chest. 

“What happened to ya, kid?” Techno mumbled into Tommy’s hair as he cradled him in his arms. 

With no response, he sighed, “Please talk to me when ya wake up…”

He melted into the mattress with a heavy feeling of helplessness, closing his eyes and drifting off into a slow slumber. 

He didn’t notice the voices start to sing as he fell asleep. 

_“Far over the misty mountains cold,_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old…”_


	2. The Seven Seas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno gets lost in the sauce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR THE SONG: when it says “Sweet dreams are made of this...” im going to give you two options: 1) normal song, yk Eurythmics, or 2) Sweet Dreams by Emily Browning. I love this version and think it needs more love.
> 
> That being said, let’s get this show on the road! I still don’t know what i’m doing btw

When Techno woke up the next morning, he was incredibly warm. Not something he would normally be concerned over, he started to move to sit up. However, as soon as he shifted a little bit, he heard a low groan. Stiffening, he turned his head slightly to the right, only to be rewarded with a mouthful of blond hair. Coughing and confused, Techno went to sit up again and remove his arms from around the person in his bed fast asleep and… in pain? 

“What…?” Techno mumbled to himself, half-asleep.

“Oh, good morning Techno!” One of the voices said in a cheerful tone, too cheerful for… Techno looked at the clock, it’s glowing yellow sun just past the halfway point on the clock, indicating it was… some time, Techno’s brain wasn’t awake enough to be able to know what that meant. 

“Noon!” the voice piped up again, “You’ve been fast asleep foreeeever, Techno,” they sounded as if they were pouting, but Techno couldn’t be sure. 

“How’s the kid doing?” The other voice asked, and… wait, what kid?

“Tommy, you idiot,” The voice reminded him, sounding fond but exasperated. Techno shook his head to dispel the morning foggy-headedness, and oh, had he been talking out loud?

“Yep!” The first voice giggled, clearly amused, “You do that sometimes. Not very often, don’t worry. Only when you were super tired the night before.”

 _That_ woke Techno up. He was suddenly blasted with memories from last night, him finding Tommy out in the cold, bringing a bloody Tommy into the house, patching Tommy up, and falling asleep with his arms wrapped around the younger boy. Distantly, he felt like he fell asleep to music, but brushed the thought off as unimportant when Tommy was in his arms, squirming and uncomfortable and possibly in pain. He shushed the little cries he heard coming from the boy, petting his hair as his own heartbeat thumped excessively loud and fast in his ears. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack if he let the boy out of his sight anytime soon.

When he had finished freaking out about what had happened to make Tommy so… 

“Broken,” one voice offered, “hurt,” the other said.

“Shut up,” Techno hissed, clutching his shaking hands to his head. 

He took a few minutes to calm himself, then sighed, letting all of his tension go with the breath. 

When he was done with that, he noticed the fire had gone out in his fireplace. Cold, even under the massive amount of blankets and furs on his bed, he decided to go out and gather wood for the fire. 

Once he had gotten fairly deep into the forest, the voices started talking. They did that a lot, so he started to tune them out. Then, they started discussing how, around Tommy, they could always _almost_ hear whispers of songs long lost. 

Songs that shouldn’t be repeated. 

The Songs of Death. 

— — — — —

Tommy had decided that he would rather stay with Techno after waking up and sitting through Techno’s interrogation on what happened. Techno remembers Tommy yelling about not being something called “Ranboo” when confronted with the fact that he couldn’t remember anything if the events leading up to him dropping half-dead onto Techno’s lawn. 

Listen, Techno doesn’t know either. 

So now Tommy has made himself at home in Techno’s small cabin in the middle of the winter woodlands. 

Techno had started going out to train after he knew Tommy was asleep because he knew that if Tommy caught him leaving, no matter the reason, he would want to come along. Usually, it’d be no problem (for the most part, i mean, it’s _Tommy_ ). But with all of Tommy’s injuries still healing, especially the large gash on his front that needed a change of bandages every 8 hours, Techno didn’t want to rush or risk anything. 

Months after Techno had patched Tommy up, on days that Techno really sat down to wonder about it, he could never understand what it was about Tommy that was always just so slightly… off. 

If Techno didn’t have the voices there to ponder to themselves when they noticed something about the boy that Techno had missed, Techno is sure he never would have noticed or felt something different from others about Tommy. 

There was one memory that stuck out the most when he thought about it; a few weeks into living with Tommy and practically being his at-home nurse and sneaking out to train at night, Tommy had woken up and caught him leaving. 

This had incited an argument he had somehow lost, and so Tommy had joined him to training. Techno of course wasn’t going to let him train, but he allowed him to watch. “Just tonight,” he had warned Tommy, earning himself a grin not unlike the grinch and a snarky “Oh, sure thing, Big Man.”

Techno had groaned but ignored it, focusing instead on opening the heavy trap door leading down to a large room. The room had its tall walls painted red, with accents of green and gold here and there. There was one wall of just weapons, all kinds, too. The wall across from it had practice dummies lines against it and massive sand bags hanging from the ceiling. Also on the ceiling were little lanterns, sparsely spread out but giving off enough light to make it easy to see the room. To the right of the practice dummy wall, there was the entrance and exit to the room with water flowing from a mini fountain in the corner (it was a lot easier than bringing water buckets for when he got thirsty). On the last wall, there was a bed shoved into a corner and a potion brewing stand next to it. Next to _that_ , there were chests upon chests of… well, everything. 

He had started with a short run around the practice room a few times, then decided to do a few ab and leg circuits, barely 10 minutes each. As he worked his arm muscles with some handstand push-ups, the voices had started whining in anticipation. He hadn’t started his actual training, just the warm-up, but the thrill from their anticipation made his increase drastically. The voices had hurriedly whispered to themselves as Techno took a few moments to stretch, done with his warm up. 

After grabbing a wooden practice sword from the wall of weapons on one side of the practice room, Techno had went over to a dummy and dragged it out into the middle of the room. He placed the wooden sword he was holding on the ground as he positioned the dummy, and picked it back up when he was satisfied. 

The voices that had been excited whispers had started yelling as he whirled around the dummy, placing perfect hits that would have had a human (or just generally alive) partner out cold. 

Or dead. 

See why he uses dummies?

As he had whacked, sliced and stabbed the poor dummy, he got caught up in the song the two voices started to sing. 

_“Sweet Dreams are made of this…”_

The air itself seemed to twist with the words and vibrate with the beat, but still letting him whip through it with ease. 

_“Who am I to disagree?”_

The floor seemed to shake under his feet every time he stepped forwards, towards the dummy. His head felt empty, in the clouds, but full of song and on the ground. 

_“I traveled the world and the seven seas,”_

He had swore he could almost hear the song outside of his head, that’s how powerful the movement of it was. 

_“Everybody’s looking for something,”_

The push and pull of the song had flowed with him as he pushed and pulled his body through what felt like time and space itself-

The song stopped. 

Techno had been thrown for a loop, never realizing the way the flow of the song had ebbed, wasting away into nothing as his energy subsided. 

He had staggered, almost dropping the sword and falling to the ground. He felt a pair of hands, not as callous as his, not as sword-wielding, catch him. 

Or they had tried to, anyway. 

The owner of the hands had swore, profusely in fact, as they too were taken down to meet the floor with Techno. Techno had looked at the hands once encircled around his bicep now lying slayed out on the floor next to him as their owner tried to stand up. He looked from the hands to the body to the face. He knew that face…

“Tommy?!” Techno had shouted, worry for the younger boy’s injuries and frustration from his pure idiocy almost making him hurt from the seams. 

He had stood up, grabbing onto Tommy and laying him down on the floor as he clutched his side and chest, curling up into a ball and groaning in pain. 

“Tommy what were you thinkin’? That was so stupid, I think i lost brain cells,” Techno had practically growled, “now I’m gonna have to redo your bandages.” 

At Tommy’s weak protest of “I’m fine, Big T,” Techno had simply raised an eyebrow. ”Can you get up?” he questioned, completely monotone. 

Tommy had glared at him from where his face was smashed on the floor and muttered indignantly, “Of course I can! I can do anything!”

Techno had shuffled backwards and away from Tommy as the boy flipped over into his other side, seemingly to get some momentum going that he could push himself up from. However, all it did was irritate his injuries and put him in more pain, making him cry out and bury his face into his knees as he curled up even more. 

Techno had reached out, intent on helping Tommy, hoping to somehow ease the pain, and as soon as he touched the boy, his mind had lit up. The voices went quiet, listening to the onslaught of languages and beats as thousands, maybe millions of songs flew through his brain. 

Techno had gasped, releasing Tommy, and let his mind reel as it tried to figure out what just happened. 

The voices had stayed quiet throughout the entire journey back up to the actual house.

Tommy had woken up in Techno’s bed hours later with new bandages on and the room filled with regen potions. “Just in case,” Techno had said in the first few days of his stay in the house, “One can never be too prepared.” 

Speaking of Techno, Techno walked through the door right as Tommy remembered that. 

“Oh good. You’re up.”

Tommy tried to answer, but had ended up choking on air as his dry mouth and lips couldn’t form the words. 

“Here,” Techno passed him a glass of… liquid. 

Tommy had no idea what it is but if he died he’s haunting Techno’s ass. 

Mollified with that thought, he took the glass and downed it, almost choking again as he finishes. 

Techno also had with him what looked like several large leather-bound books. After taking the now empty glass from Tommy, he placed the books in Tommy’s lap, careful not to hurt him. 

“So,” Techno starts, “you’re banned from leavin’ this bed for a week.”

Tommy had stared in shock for a second, before spluttering and immediately trying to convince Techno that there is no need to keep such a big man confined to such a little space. 

At Techno’s huff of disbelieving amusement, he tried a different tactic. 

“I’m so young, Techno! I’ll die of boredom here, do you really want that? Do you want to come into this room one day and find a pile of bones because I was so bored, I died??”

Techno had gestured to the books in Tommy's lap. “Look, and now you have something to do, so you won’t.”

Tommy looked at him, down at the books, back up at him, and back down to the books again. 

“No, no, no I’m… you know, I’m actually good. I can entertain myself. Why don’t you go on and take these back then?” Tommy had smiled, trying to get Techno to move the damned books off of him. 

“Nah, I think you’ll like ‘em,” Techno stated. 

Tommy had just looked at the books in righteous frustrated silence. 

Taking that as his cue to go, Techno had turned around and started towards the door. 

“Enjoy,” He called back to the younger as he slipped through the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t know this song, i hope you liked it anyway? I’d be surprised if someone doesn’t know this song but hey i don’t know you


	3. A Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno and some flowers.
> 
> Oh and Wilbur is there I guess
> 
> Idk I mean it’s a flashback so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NO SCHEDULE AND NO IDEA WHAT IM DOING PLEASE
> 
> The song is “Feels Like Home” by Chantal Kreviazuk :)

A few weeks later, and Techno’s life was completely taken over by his worry for Tommy’s health. Unfortunately, that meant he had to deal with _Tommy._

“Technoooo I'm bored,” Tommy whined for the fifth time, his voice rising in pitch on Techno’s name. 

“You have everythin’ you need to not be bored, Tommy,” Techno replied, “you just have to use ‘em.”

“But Techno. You know that these... these _THINGS_ cannot keep one so great as me entertained!” Tommy said disdainfully with an emphasis on _things_ , as he still didn’t know what they were dispite Techno explaining them multiple times over the course of his week-long _torture_ if you asked Tommy. 

“Tommy. It’s- once again- a Rubix cube and a bag of Orbeez,” Techno frowned as Tommy seemed to not even comprehend that Techno was talking, his head down facing his chest as his breathing became labored.

This had happened occasionally during Tommy’s stay already, and the boy had refused help every time. So Techno stopped offering. Instead, he glanced around the room as he waited for Tommy to calm down, putting his book “The Art of War” down after making sure he wouldn’t lose his place. The room was small, four walls, white, with two windows and a small bedside table holding a vase of flowers on it next to the bed facing one of the windows and shoved up against two of the walls. He let his gaze linger on the flowers. 

They were home-grown, since as soon as Tommy had decided to stay, he had demanded Techno plant and care for a small patch of white jasmine. Inside, of course. The patch now lived in a greenhouse Techno had made once the stuff had gotten too large to keep inside. Techno had no idea what white jasmine even was, other than a plant, obviously. 

He also hadn’t known why Tommy had wanted it so bad. 

But he found some, after _quite_ some time searching and trading in a village Tommy had recommended he buy it in, since apparently that’s where he bought his? 

Techno had been very confused. 

But he was a good brother, so he had found some for Tommy anyway.

 _And_ didn’t ask for an explanation. 

He really deserved some recognition for all this after Tommy’s health is better. 

He had handed the little package of seeds to Tommy, expecting a thank you, at the very least, even if he hadn’t been sure what Tommy would do with the seeds. 

Tommy had looked at him, looked at the seeds, and had spoken a very eloquent, “Huh?”

“They’re the seeds you wanted,” Techno had huffed out. Had Tommy already forgotten that he had sent Techno out to get these on the premise that it was crucial he got them before Tommy let him anywhere near his wounds? 

“Oh,” Tommy sighed. 

“Okay. Right. I'm assuming you know how to plant flowers?” Tommy had asked, almost sounding embarrassed.

“Yeah, I mean it ain’t that different from potatoes, right?” Techno had shrugged, “I think it’s fine.”

“No, no, no. I mean, yes, but no.” Tommy placed a hand over his eyes before slowing dragging it down his face as he exhaled another sigh.

Techno had started to feel annoyed at the attitude before remembering that Tommy was shit at explaining things and this was clearly something he needed done stat, as he normally would have just waited until he could do it himself instead of taking the time to explain what he needed done thoroughly. So he sucked it up and waited for him to start.

“So you know how when you plant potatoes you have to keep putting dirt on top of the little potato eye or whatever it’s called? Don’t do that with flowers or at least not these. It’ll suffocate them. Anyway, I know you’re pretty careful when watering your potatoes, so do that with the flowers. Flowers are surprisingly tough- I mean, depending on the flower species and the soil and… yeah you get it- but they’re still _flowers_ , you know? They’re beautiful and strong and precious and fragile. Especially when growing them. If you over-water them, instead of potentially rotting, they’ll just _drown_.” Tommy huffed out, seemingly done speaking. 

Techno had stared. 

“Right.” One voice said, apparently understanding that entire thing. 

“Okay.” The other said amicably, probably not having listened at all and just agreeing because the other voice did. 

“...Alright,” Techno had slowly sighed out, “So basically be really gentle, don’t over-water, and don’t insult ‘em.”

The last point had been added on sarcastically, with Techno expecting a glare or rude gesture from the blonde. 

Tommy had just nodded, then straightened up with a gleam in his eye. He looked at Techno, dead on, looking extremely serious. 

Well, as serious-looking as Tommy can look, anyway. 

“Also! Keep a close eye on them and give me progress reports weekly. Check on them everyday before coming to see me so you can describe how they’re looking to me when you come in, okay, Big Man?” Tommy had asked, staring into Techno’s soul. 

The room had started to feel a little chilly, Techno had thought, distractedly. 

“I got it, Tommy,” Techno had sighed through his nose, “Be really gentle, don’t over-water, keep a close eye on them, take progress notes and give ‘em to you.”

“And be nice to them,” Tommy had added, smirking up at Techno from his place on the bed.

“Of course.” Techno nodded solemnly. 

— — — — 

Walking away, Techno had thought over the conversation. 

Techno had understood why Tommy wanted the progress reports, it was the closest the boy could get to actually making sure the flowers are being grown correctly without doing it himself. 

“That was adorable,” One voice spoke up, interrupting his thoughts.

“Eh, he’s a good kid. I’m not surprised he has something he loves doing.” The other voice had pitched in, somehow sounding fondly bored.

“Yeah! Like how Wil loves that guitar!” The first voice had chirped.

“Or Phil and that damn saxophone-” The voice had been suddenly cut off by a loud slam of a door. 

Techno, up and ignoring the frantic whispers in the back of his head, the pounding of feet coming towards him quickly as he turned around, sword appearing in his hand as he moved to *ahem* _heavily maim_ whoever decided it was a good idea to burst into his home; his _home_ , the place he resided in, the place that held Tommy gingerly in it’s hold while he slept and Techno was out training, the place that was warm and… and that was _HIS!_

His sword had swung out, his eyes narrowed, his feet moved into position as he leant forward slightly in preparation. 

The movements had suddenly stopped, his sword coming to a halt midair as his brother stood staring cross-eyed at Techno’s blade pointing directly at between his eyes.

“Hey, Tech!” Wil had smiled recklessly, still looking a tad bit wary as he watched Techno sigh and put the blade back into his inventory in the edges of his vision, snapping his eyes back to Techno’s as Techno lifted his head to glare at him. 

“Wilbur.” Techno had grunted, crossing his arms and continuing to glare at the man. 

Wilbur had pouted, slumping his shoulders and looking slightly off to the left in a state of dejection. 

“What’re you doin’ here.” He asked, the question coming out as more of an accusation than he meant it to.

“I came to see you,” Wilbur said, still pouting and not looking at him. 

“Uh huh.” 

Techno had looked him up and down, and after determining he was safe (well, relatively) turned around and walked to the corner of the living room that he had made into a small garden to grow the flowers in. 

Wilbur had taken notice, and shook out of his dejected state to follow Techno, his head tilted as he looked at the area. 

“Tech… what’s up with the dirt pile in the corner of your living room?” He had asked, his nose scrunched up in confusion.

Techno had looked at the pile, ignoring Wilbur. He felt sort of embarrassed, now that he was thinking about what it looked like. He had made it without any assumptions that others would see it, intending just to grow the flowers, give them to Tommy and get rid of the little area after. 

He had just kneeled, dug the flower seed packet out of his clothes and opened it. 

“Huh? What’s that?” Wilbur had asked, sounding _really_ confused. 

Techno had continued to ignore him, choosing instead to start gently nudging holes in the dirt to place the seeds into. 

The packet and Tommy had said that these flowers needed a lot of light and trellises to climb on. Techno had put the dirt pile in the corner of the room, where the most amount of light was, surprisingly. He had had no idea how to make a trellis, so he just… didn’t. 

(He had figured it out later anyways.)

He had put the seeds in rows, but there weren’t very many in the packet so he hadn't needed to dig out very many little holes, thankfully. 

“Tech?” Wilbur had sounded frustrated, so Techno turned around.

“Yeah, Wilbur?” He had responded.

“What’re you doing?” Wilbur’s voice had sounded so soft and confused, Techno had felt pity for him and explained the situation. 

He never included that Tommy was there.

That wasn’t his story to tell.

Though, it had been starting to seem as if it apparently wasn’t going to be Tommy’s either. 

Wilbur had nodded, seemingly accepting of the shitty half-explanation. 

“Awww, he’s so cute! Like a puppy,” One of the voices had cooed at the man, even though he couldn’t hear them. 

“Is he?” The other had scoffed in disbelief. 

“Of course! Don’t you see it?” The first voice had insisted.

“He’s, like, a fully grown man, ረጎዕልነ-” The second voice had cut themselves off after… whatever noise they made. 

The voices had gone silent, which in turn had allowed Techno to realize that Wilbur had left the room while he was listening to them talk/argue. 

He had shot off his feet, as worry for Tommy rushed through him no matter how much he loved and trusted Wil, he couldn’t help it. 

He had rushed to the room, only to stop short in the hallway as he heard laughing and the strumming of cords. 

“Of course Wilbur brought his guitar,” Techno had thought to himself, not surprised. 

“He always was smart,” One voice had piped up proudly. 

“I like that guitar.” The other had also chimed in, unnecessarily. 

Techno had let them talk to each other about how they wished they could play instruments, only feeling slightly guilty about not paying attention while he listened to Wilbur and Tommy as they spoke animatedly to each other. 

He had fallen asleep to their voices that night, sitting upright against the wall outside the room as their gentle voices, warm laughter, and singing of songs lulled him to sleep. 

The last thing he had heard that night, a song, was something that he would be found humming quietly to himself as he watered the flowers the next few days.

_“If you knew how happy you are making me,_

_I've never thought that I'd love anyone so much._

_Feels like home to me,_

_Feels like home to me,_

_Feels like I'm all the way back where I belong._

_Feels like I'm all the way back where I belong.”_

  
  
That night, Techno had fallen asleep to the belated thought that, for the first time in a while, he had a _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, had to re-upload it lolz


	4. The Air Was Full Of Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno gets lost in the sauce pt. 2 but it's crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi holy shit so I guess this is the plan? I seem to get bursts of writing energy at a certain time and on certain days, so hopefully I can keep it up and make it a weekly update thing?
> 
> I dunno but I hope you like it and it makes sense cause it is 100% un-beta'd :)  
> Also, I know I italicize wayyyy too much, but if it gets unbearable, please tell me!!
> 
> Song: “A Horse With No Name” by America & George Martin

Right.

Breaking out of thatflashback, Techno sighed, looking back at Tommy. Tommy, who still had his chin tucked into his chest as his breathing started to even out. His eyes were closed, and Techno knew he would have to keep quiet or maybe even leave the room to spare Tommy any more sensory overload. 

He gently laid a pair of (surprisingly heavy) sunglasses into Tommy’s lap and brought out the blonde's ear plugs, made by Techno after the first occurance. 

Techno has no idea where the sunglasses came from, but they were heavy and thick, with the frame of them being a rough metal Techno had never seen before and doesn’t know the name of. Tommy swears he doesn’t either, he just knows that they don’t break and always find a way back to him. 

Apparently they once fell in lava and reappeared on his bed the next morning. 

(Techno totally doesn’t want to chuck them in the woods to test it out, not at all.)

If he’s being honest, the glasses look and feel like they would hurt to wear, but Tommy tells him it doesn’t feel like anything’s even on his face. 

He told Techno once that if it wasn’t for the extreme tint of the world when he puts them on, he wouldn’t ever know they were there. 

Tommy has, multiple times on good weeks, worn them and stared at himself in the mirror and crowed about how good he looks in them. 

Techno thinks they look kinda weird. 

He’s a little jealous that they seem magic, though. 

Anyway. 

Tommy’s ”sensory overload episodes”, as they’ve taken to calling them, are usually fairly brief, if only because Techno is always there to give him potions to help and he has his sunglasses on hand at all times. 

This one seemed to be one of the shortest ones so far, as Tommy suddenly grabbed the sunglasses and ear plugs and walked into the bathroom, all with his eyes closed. 

Techno thinks that if he ever needed to, Tommy could find his way around life blind, not to mention fighting. Tommy has always liked to close his eyes during fights sometimes, just to prove he could do it, Techno thought.

But now, he thinks that maybe that was also training. Training in preparation. 

Once Tommy has shut the bathroom door, Techno picks up his book and heads to the stables. 

He’s decided that today he wants to read aloud to Carl. 

As he passes past the kitchen, he can smell something cooking, but he hasn’t been in the kitchen for hours. Suspicious, he rounds the corner, only to find Wilbur, covered head to toe in flour. 

He’s wearing the apron Techno had gotten him for christmas a few years ago, when he was notorious for not being able to do a thing in the kitchen. Since then, Wil has obviously worked something out with kitchens worldwide, because he can now do the bare necessities without burning something down. 

Techno remembers he once lit a pan on fire. 

It was a cast-iron pan.

“That was so chaotic,” One of the voices giggles.

“I thought we were going to die, and I don’t know if we even _can_ die.” The other voice stated casually in return. 

Techno sighed, bringing his attention back to Wilbur who had just turned around and was looking at Techno expectantly. 

Techno just stared back, slightly nonplussed. 

“Hi, Wilbur,” Wilbur said in a terrible whispered imitation of Techno, “How are you today?”

Switching back to his usual voice, he replied still whispering, “Oh, I’m well! Thank you for asking, Techno!”

Techno rolled his eyes at the display, secretly thankful Wilbur had somehow sensed it wasn’t a good idea to speak loudly or even normal volume at the moment. 

He looked around Wil, trying to see what he was cooking, but Wilbur moved ever so slightly to block his vision. He tried again, but the same thing happened. He looked up at Wil, who was looking at him with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“What’ve you got there, Wilbur?” He snickered in that terrible impression of Techno again. 

Just as Wilbur was going to reply to himself though, Techno abruptly swiveled around and walked lightly out of the kitchen, back on track to the stables, done with Wil’s antics. 

“Hey!” Wilbur whisper-hissed at his back as he walked away, “Get back here! I’m not done talking to you!”

“You were talkin’ to me?” Techno having finally given in, “It seemed to me that you were just talkin’ to yourself and doin’ shitty impersonations of me while you were at it.”

Wilbur spluttered, holding his spoon- “Ladle, Techno,” One of the voices told him- to his chest as he suddenly feigned pain and folded in half at the waist to showcase his flair for the dramatics. 

“You wound me, Tech,” Wil mutters at the ground, still folded in half, “Why do you hurt me like this?” He finally looks up, puppy-dog eyes turned up to the max.

“Techno!” One of the voices yelled at him, “You shouldn’t have been so harsh!” They sounded mad, but like they were pouting at the same time.

“He does look kinda sad, man.” The other voice said, sounding way less bothered, just simply pointing out things that nobody asked them to.

“Eh?!” Techno whispered so softly it was more akin to an exhale of air, bewildered and offended that the voices in his head liked Wilbur so much that they would side with him.

“We’re not _siding_ with anyone.” The second voice stated, matter-of-fact.

“Yes we are!” The first voice practically shouted.

This was sounding like it was going to be one of those times when Techno was glad they were just in his head and no one else could hear them, because he would have killed them for being so loud if they weren’t.

“We are?” The second voice asked, sounding bored yet confused.

“Yes!!”

“Oh. Wait, who?”

“Ugh, you’re so dumb,” The first voice groaned.

Techno tuned them out as they started to talk again, this time focusing on how Wilbur was still giving him his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Come on,” Techno grumbled, “If you’re done in here then you can come with me to the stables if you wan’.”

Wilbur blinked at him, losing the puppy-dog eyes to give him a confused look. “What’re you going to do in the stables that I would want to come with you?” Techno knew he didn't mean to sound rude, and so he didn’t take offense to the slightly rude worded question. 

“I’m gonna go read aloud to Carl,” Techno replied simply instead. 

“Oh! Yeah, I think I'll be done here in a few.” Wilbur smiled sheepishly, “That is, if you don’t mind me joining in a little bit?”

Techno shook his head, turning around again as Wilbur waved and whispered an excited goodbye. This time Techno was met with no interruptions on his way to the stables, not even the two voices, who had shut up as soon as Techno had his back turned away from Wil.

As he approached Carl’s stall, the voices started to sing the _same_ song they always sang whenever Carl appeared.

_“_ _I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, i_ _t felt good to be out of the rain._

_In the desert, you can remember your name,_ _'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain._

_La, la, la, la, la, la_

_La, la, la, la, la, la”_

As they reached the second repetition of “la’s”, Techno studiously ignored them and instead called out to the horse, the horse that _had a name, thank you very much,_ hoping he wasn’t already asleep. When he caught sight of him, standing up against the gate, practically begging to be let out, he gave a little smile and shoved his way into the stall. The stall was… fairly large.

The stall was probably a lot bigger than other horse stalls typically were, is what he means. He’s not even embarrassed about it, Carl deserves this and so much more in his opinion. There’s a little space by the side that has a whole plethora of blankets shoved into a semi-circle typically for Carl or Techno to sit/sleep in on rough days. In this case, though, it was for a relaxing day in which Techno would read aloud to Carl and Carl would snort at Techno to brush him or feed him occasionally. They were lovely days, and Techno treasured them. 

“Wilbur’ll be here,” He warned the stallion, “He’ll probably bring his guitar.”

Carl side-eyed him, and snorted at Techno’s hand as he lifted it for the horse to nuzzle. He then settled down in the mess of blankets (sitting in a “criss-cross-applesauce” position as he had once heard it called) after Carl laid down next to it, having decided his place for him. He pulled out the book, finding his page, plucking the bookmark out, placing it delicately on his knee and leaning back a little more into the blanket pile. He could feel himself relaxing as he starts off reading where he was last, Carl not seeming to mind that it’s in the middle of the book.

They sit in the quiet drone of Techno’s voice for a while, Techno’s vivid imagination going wild at the marvelous imagery the book places into his mind, and Carl drifting off to sleep in an almost Pavlovian response to the continuous sounds of Techno’s storytelling. Occasionally, the voices will chirp in with a song as the book contains a line that is akin to a lyric they know, but other than that, their little piece of the world is peaceful. The birds sing songs of their own, the foxes yip and skitter away in games of tag, the clouds roll sluggishly across the sky as if captured by Techno’s voice and wanting to listen forever. One bird sings a particularly beautiful melody, and Techno stops his reading to close his eyes and _listen_. 

The song fades into the distance, and Techno opens his eyes to continue reading. A few minutes later, he registers Wil’s in the stall with them. He notices he has a guitar in his hand and a grin on his face. Techno grunts in greeting, giving the brunette a questioning look to ask if he wants Techno to continue reading. Wilbur somehow grins wider, nodding. Techno brings his gaze back to the yellowed pages in his grasp

It’s lovely, the way the world seems to stop just for a few seconds, as if everything has stopped in place to listen to it. Techno feels himself slowly getting sweeped up into the song, the chords pulling him along as he vaguely registers the fact that his body is _definitely_ moving on its own, and he doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, all he knows is he is now finally part of the song, part of the music, part of the _world._ That feeling is suddenly ripped away as Wilbur’s voice and the voices in his heads join in with the guitar, though.

All of a sudden, he feels connected to everything in a way he has never felt before, almost like the force of his body’s movements have caused things around him to start moving in tandem with his. Now, Techno’s soul feels like it’s singing. It feels like there is a string connecting him to everything in the Earth, and by association everything living on Earth. He feels like he can hear every living thing’s heart beat in time with the song. 

_He feels like a song._

— — — — 

Techno opens his eyes to chaos. 

Well, he actually opens his eyes to the stall’s hay-covered floor, but once he looks up all he sees is chaos.

There’s no other word for it. He first notices that Wil’s staring at him with a look in his eye that Techno couldn’t even begin to try to decipher, his guitar almost falling out of his hand his grip on it is so weak. He’s facing Techno, sprawled on the ground with hay in his hair and one arm thrown out behind him to support his weight. His legs were halfway to his chest as if he was going to start running at even the slightest movement from Techno. Normally, he would be preening (on the inside) at a look like that from Wilbur. The man was so desensitized to Techno’s threats it wasn’t even funny. Then he feels a pull in his shoulders and realizes he’s standing in the middle of the stall, arms thrown wide open as he is bent at the waist in a dramatic bow. 

Something he would never really do unless he was feeling incredibly extra, and that was maybe once every three years. 

Still, not a very good reason for Wil to look so terrified...

“Techno… look to your right, please,” a voice sounded in his head, sounding faint.

Techno, confused but still high off the feeling of the song, glanced to his right. There, floating in the air about a foot off the ground, was Carl. And a few bales of hay, but more importantly, _Carl._

“What the fuck,” Another voice said, shaking and confused. Techno looked over from where he was now stood up like normal staring at Carl’s sleeping form just… hovering off the ground.

Wilbur was now also staring at Carl, completely having gone into emotional shock.

As Wilbur looked back at Techno, he looked him up and down, and gave a shaky laugh before saying:

“I didn’t know you could dance, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! So what’s up with Techno huh


	5. Never Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which There Is Control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Never Mind by Chaya :)

Still stuck in his musically foggy mind, Techno was only able to form an only slightly mumbled response, “I… I can’t…” His voice was low, making it not sound like the question it very much was.

The whispers of the melody that had stopped a while ago played faintly through his mind as the voices hummed along with it, seemingly unconcerned or even aware of anything apart from the song.

Shaking his head roughly from one side to the other to rid his head of the mental-auditory _weirdness_ he was experiencing, Techno started to try and piece together his mind so he could form a proper response to Wilbur. As he was shaking his head, however, his eyes caught on something large and brown hovering in the air close to Wil. Stopping shaking his head, he squinted at the object, his vision slightly blurry from the sudden movement of his head. There, floating above Wil’s head, was his guitar. 

Somehow, Techno felt that if he were to move even his head, the guitar might shatter in the air where it floated. 

So instead, he looked at Wil, looked at the guitar, and looked back at Wil again. He didn't move anything other than his eyes for fear of damaging something the other held dear, however unintentional. That guitar in particular he didn't want to harm though. It was the one he had made for Wilbur after a creeper had made its way into Wil’s home and blown up in the middle of his living room as soon as Wil had walked in the door. 

— — — —

The creeper had destroyed everything in the living room, including Wil’s now old guitar. Techno had come to help him rebuild once he had heard about what happened, and that night had heard Wil weeping over his ruined guitar. He had promised himself that he would get Wil another as he walked away from his crying brother.

As Techno had researched guitar making and different designs, he realized he couldn't just _buy_ Wilbur a new guitar, it would have to be made for him specially. Techno had then traded like crazy to get the specific materials needed to make a guitar like the one he wanted to give Wil, planning on going to a luthier and giving them all the materials he had compiled for this project. When he finally found one, however, they were extremely backlogged and wouldn’t be able to get to him for a little over a year. That wouldn’t do. Techno had left the shop determined to figure out how to do it himself and do it well. Somehow, the entire thing only took 5 months, which Techno was pleased with. He knew it could have been done quicker, but he had never made a guitar before and he was a perfectionist to a fault. 

He had carved symbols into the wood of the body of the guitar, so faint you probably wouldn’t notice they were there unless you felt it or someone told you. The symbols were of little things, little memories the two shared; but also a few memories he had heard Wil talk about with other people. There was a carrot near the base of the neck on the back, for when Wil called him a pig and he insisted he was a _piglin, thank you very much, Wilbur_. Further down the back of the guitar was a violin, the instrument Techno had used to play with Wil as he played his guitar in the comfort of their shared room. There were a few others, but they weren’t Techno’s memories, and as such, not his stories to tell. 

As a little detail he hadn’t been able to help himself from adding, he made the guitar’s pickguard out of a shimmering silver glass he had found in a cave a while ago. When the guitar was finished being constructed, he had painted it a “tuscany yellow” to match Wil’s well-known sweater, hoping Wil wouldn’t mind if they matched. Later that week, after almost talking himself out of giving Wil the gift four times, he had shown up on Wilbur’s doorstep with a nervous expression and twitching fingers. He had gone to knock, not wanting to just invite himself in if Wil had guests over, but Wil had opened the door before he could, and pulled him into a crushing hug. Techno had said a soft hello, and asked to come inside. Wil had practically shoved him into the home, barely seeming to register Techno hanging up his crown and cape by the door before walking into the living room. They had sat down, Wil asked him why he looked so nervous, “Oh no, has something bad happened? Techno _please,_ ” Wilbur had begged after Techno did not answer. Instead of answering again, Techno had merely dug into his inventory and pulled out the wrapped present. “‘S for you,” He had mumbled to the ground as Wil reached out and gingerly plucked the gift out of Techno’s hand. 

“Oh, Tech…” Wilbur had whispered as he opened it, and Techno had cringed at the words, afraid his gift wouldn’t be accepted.

“It’s gor-” Wil’s throat had seemed to close up as he tried to get the words out, “It’s _gorgeous_.” He had finally breathed out, looking at the guitar in reverence. 

Techno had then allowed himself a glance up to Wil’s face, to try and figure out if he was lying or not. His breath caught much like Wil’s had earlier at the sight of the other’s tears and glowing smile. Wil had looked elated, shocked, and excited. It was all Techno could have hoped for and more, to see his brother crying at a gift he had made for him. A sense of pride had followed him the entire way home that night after he left, and somehow stuck by whenever Techno would see Wil walking around with it or singing while strumming a song Techno never recognized (but the voices did) from then on.

— — — — 

Back to the present crisis, however, Wil’s guitar was still hovering in the air as Techno watched it. Wilbur finally looked at where he was looking, and gasped as he also watched it float above his head. 

“I didn’t even notice it leaving my hands…” Wil whispered into the silence. Well, silence for him. Techno was still experiencing what seemed to finally be the last notes of the song the voices and his own head were playing for him.

Wilbur carefully stood up, making sure to keep his hands below the guitar in case it suddenly fell out of the air as he moved. As the song ended, the guitar and everything else did too. 

That is to say, they fell out of their hovering places in the air and came crashing down. All except Carl and Wilbur’s guitar, anyway. Wil caught the guitar and held it close to his chest as he looked at everything that had just fallen around them. 

Carl didn't fall to the ground because he… he kept floating. Wil didn't seem to notice yet, which left Techno to a few moments of solitary panic. At least Carl didn’t seem too worried or even a tad bit concerned, Techno reassured himself. 

As Techno looked at Carl, he vaguely noticed Wilbur moving towards him, his hands outstretched and free of the guitar. Techno didn’t know where the guitar went, but at the moment he was more worried about how _the fuck_ Carl was still floating then the whereabouts of the guitar. 

He opened his mouth to warn Wilbur about coming near him. He didn’t know why he felt that would be a bad idea, but he did. But instead of warning Wil, his voice started stringing together a melody his brain didn’t know but his voice did. His eyes widened in alarm as the song flowed out of him and in him; his voice gravely and deep in a way he had never heard it before.

 _“_ _And now you…”_

One of the voices joined him in the song, their voices intertwining up and down with the melody, 

_“Don't know me…”_

Techno managed to twitch a finger out of the song’s hold on his body as the song continued,

 _“But never mind, never mind..._ _”_

The other voice brought in the melody from earlier as Techno and the first voice continued singing this unknown song, somehow producing a twisting whirlwind of song that only sounded a tiniest bit grating as they glided around in his head. 

The song continued, leaving him feeling as if he was a visitor in his own mind; he didn’t know what was happening, and his attempts of stopping the melody weren’t working. 

His body wasn’t responding to his calls. 

As Wil hears the melody, his footsteps falter, and his eyes widening before glazing over. Techno stops, fear gripping him as he somehow rushes forwards to catch Wil as he falls backwards, the songs grip on him relinquished. He cradles Wilbur in his arms, looking down at him in barely concealed fear. Wil’s eyes are blown open and staring into space, and his breathing is thin. Techno can almost feel his heart stop at the sight.

As Techno holds Wilbur, he manages to peel his eyes away to glance around the room. His gaze lands on a large lump in the corner of the stall, next to the large pile of blankets. His eyes widen and a breath of relief escapes him as he realizes it was the sleeping form of Carl laying there. He had completely forgotten about Carl during the entire scene, and now felt increasingly guilty for that fact. Once realizing Carl was alright, he turned his attention back to Wil. Wil, who was still laying limp in his arms.

After several minutes of Techno holding onto Wil like he would disappear if he let him go, Wilbur finally blinked; his breath coming more harshly now as he seemed to come into himself and move around. Techno, with his arms shaking in relief, distantly realized the songs have stopped.

Wil sat up slowly, gripping onto Techno’s shoulder for support. Techno leaned backwards slightly to aid in the process. They eventually got Wil to his feet, however shaky they were. 

“What the _fuck-_ was _that_?” Wilbur gasped out in the silence.

Techno didn’t answer, staying quiet for fear of the _thing_ happening again. In fear of whatever had just taken over his body putting Wil in danger again. 

Wil looked at him, his eyes wet and scared, his breath only now evening out. He looked at him for answers Techno didn’t know, and only barely having heard the question for. 

Confused and frightened of himself and this thing inside his mind, Techno turns abruptly and runs out of the stall, out of the stables. He could hear Wilbur calling out to him faintly, and guilt permeates through the fog of fear clouding his mind as he runs. 

He runs into the woods beyond their home; the voices silent the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter makes sense...


	6. Standing In The Bitter Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret Places and Sad Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs are:  
> 1) "Me and Little Andy" by Dolly Parton  
> 2) «Колыбельная» by Rauf & Faik
> 
> PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE WITH THAT IT REALLY HELPS

His breath fogged out in front of him as he ran through the woods, tree limbs smacking against his face as he pushed through them. His mind filled with snippets of different songs for every new tree or rock or leaf he touched. He didn’t know what to do, his head was being bombarded with song and guilt from what had happened earlier, and he was slowly losing oxygen the higher he climbed up the hill in the forest. Even the voices seemed overwhelmed, and they weren’t saying anything.

Wait. 

He was climbing. 

Why- no, since _when_ was he climbing?

He stopped his movements, confused, and looked around him. He was high up on a tall hill covered with dark oak trees. So he was still in the tundra at least. Now that he was stopped, he could take in the lack of sound surrounding him. And more oxygen, but he was really just focused on the peacefulness he found himself in. His brain quieted down as he now wasn’t touching any more of the nurture around him, and he released all his fears and worries from before, choosing instead to look at the wilderness in front of him.

Techno sat down, deciding to rummage through his thoughts until they made sense and he didn’t feel so on edge. He hates his feelings, they make him feel incredibly vulnerable. Recently however, the voices have encouraged (read: bullied) him into sitting down and sorting through his thoughts and feelings when he felt overwhelmed by something. So the fact that he was going to do this of his own free will was big. 

He closed his eyes and put his hands on his knees, ready. First, he touched on what happened in the barn. He knew he was scared; scared of losing control of his body like that again, especially if it was going to hurt Wilbur or Tommy. He was mad; mad that he had hurt Wil like that, mad that he couldn’t manage to stop. He was relieved; thankful that Wil and Carl had ended up relatively okay. He was confused; he didn’t know how he did it or even _if_ he did it. For all he knew, he had been possessed. 

_(Possessed by who? Or what? And why?)_

He knew he was missing a little piece of time from when he was apparently dancing, but there was nothing he could do about that now. With a large breath outwards, he pushed all of those emotions from his mind, done with them for now. He knew they would come up again, but he had come to peace with that they were there, and didn’t need them right now. He opened his eyes, ready to talk to the voices. This was another thing they did, they made him think through his emotions and thoughts and then share with them what he felt comfortable sharing. 

“Okay,” Techno started, waiting for confirmation they were listening. They both hummed, and he resumed talking, “I’m mostly mad that I hurt Wil an’ Carl, but I’m also confused an’ pretty scared that I dunno what happened.”

The voices waited a second to see if he would continue. When he didn’t, one of them started, “Firstly, I’m very proud of you for doing that all on your own,” Techno scoffed at that, but they just spoke over it. “And for what it’s worth, I think I speak for both of us when I say that we’re so sorry for what happened. I know it wasn’t a conscious choice on any of our parts, but I still would like to apologize.”

“Yeah.” The second voice stated shortly.

After a moment of silence, they started again, and in the same monotone voice said, “So if you’re done with that, I was wondering what it was like for you Techno.”

“Shut up!” The first voice growled at the other, sounding pissed.

“I just said I wanted to know,” the second voice asked, defensive.

“It was insensitive, you asshole,” The first voice replied with no small amount of animosity.

“Listen. How we experienced it has to be different from how he did. You already apologized for the entire affair, so I figured we could compare.” The second voice stated simply.

“It’s a good idea,” Techno interjected, hoping to have a conversation without apologies and that they could hopefully learn something from.

“See?” The voice that had suggested the idea said, sounding only slightly arrogant.

“Fine, but you’re still a dick.” Came the annoyed reply from the first voice.

Before they could start arguing again, Techno quickly asked, “What do you wanna know?”

“Takes one to know one...” The second voice mumbled before abruptly asking in a loud voice, “Alright, what did it feel like when the song took over?” 

Not putting much thought into how they knew that that was what happened, Techno responded drily with a short, “When?”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh, the second time?” The voice answered sounding slightly embarrassed.

Techno hummed in thought as he moved around the forest, looking for something. 

“It was… scary. I couldn’t move my body, an’ I had no control over what I was sayin’- I mean, singin’.” Techno quickly corrected.

“Huh.” The voice responded.

“What.”

“No, nothing,” They said, essentially waving Techno off, “It’s just… that’s how we felt too. Well, basically anyway.”

“I suppose we thought it would have been different is all,” The other voice added in. 

“So it was like tha’ for you guys?” Techno questioned, only half-paying attention to where he was walking through the forest.

“Sort of, I mean we don’t have a body that could be _taken over_ , if you will, but we felt as though if we were to stop singing, there would be… consequences.”

 _“Consequences?”_ Techno whispered under his breath to himself before putting it out of his mind. For now, anyway.

“Were you singin’ of your own free will though?” He mumbled, frustrated.

“It started out of our own free will I think,” One voice began.

“It felt as if we were being pulled into the song.” The second voice added, admitting it softly. 

After a few seconds of thoughtful silence between all of them, Techno heard a, “Hey guys? Sorry to change the topic, but I think we’re being followed.” 

Techno stopped in his tracks, trying to listen above the music plaguing his ears that seemed to be coming from the forest. He was able to hear a faint rustling that sounded several lengths away from him, and he turned towards it, letting the noise approach.

“Techno, I love you, but sometimes I think you’re a bit screwed in the head,” One of the voices whispered fiercely in his ear when they noticed him not moving.

“At least we know he probably won’t die? It sounds really slow, it’s probably just a zombie or something.” The other voice said, also whispering.

Techno had had the same thought when he had heard the faint rustling, so he still hadn’t even reached for his blade, hanging by his side in its scabbard.

“Still, it’s not exactly the best for my anxiety,” The first voice said harshly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that everything he did was with your _anxiety_ in mind,” The second voice scoffed. 

The noises were coming closer, almost close enough that he could run out and slash the things throat (or maybe arm?) off and continue his search.

He still didn’t know _what_ he was searching for.

Finally, he could hear the shuffling just around a tree slightly to his right. He ran directly at it; it didn’t sound very heavy, so he could definitely kill whatever it was easily.

Rounding the tree, he swiped his sword, only to be met with air. Slightly startled, he listened for more movement or unnatural sounds- perhaps it was an enderman- and going to move his foot forwards, he abruptly tripped on something. Rolling to his feet, he looked around for signs of danger before glancing down at what had tripped him. There, at his feet, head cocked to one side and tongue lolling out of its mouth, was a dog. Well, a wolf, but same thing.

“I mean, sure? Not really though, Techno.” One of the voices interjected.

It was looking directly at him, and he felt suddenly light-headed as one song started blaring over all the others. This song was full, and not incomplete as all the others had been.

All other noise faded into nothingness as he reeled back in shock, listening to the lilting melody.

As Techno stared at the dog, the voices seemed to recognize the song, whimpering slightly before singing it softly in time with the sounds of a guitar being strummed flowing all around them.

_“Before I could say a word she said, "My name is Sandy_

_And this here is my puppy dog, its name is Little Andy"_

_Standing in the bitter cold in just a ragged dress._

_Then I asked her to come in and this is what she said…”_

The voices had their voices rise and fall with the song, breathing in all the right places. So why did it sound... wrong?

_“Ain't ya got an extra bed for me and little Andy?_

_Patty cake, a baker's man,_

_My mommy ran away again._

_And we was all alone and didn't know what else to do,_

_I wonder if you'll let us stay with you,”_

Techno let out a harsh breath of air as he listened to the sorrowful lyrics being sung from the voices in his ears.

_“If you don't love us no one will,_

_I promise we won't cry._

_London bridge is fallin' down._

_My daddy's drunk again in town,_

_And we was all alone and didn't know what we could do._

_We wondered if you'll let us stay with you,”_

The dog was still staring at him, tail wagging from beneath its rump as it sat on the forest floor, an image completely contradictory to the song cascading upon Techno’s ears.

_“She was just a little girl, not more than six or seven._

_But that night as they slept, the angels took them both to heaven._

_God knew little Andy would be lonesome with her gone._

_Now Sandy and her puppy dog won't ever be alone…”_

The song slowed down and the voices whispered the last lines of the song, letting the world go silent as it ended.

Sitting in the silence, Techno looked at the dog. “What was that? Your theme song or somethin’?”

The voices immediately broke out in hysterics, crying, laughing and wheezing like there was no tomorrow.

Techno was just glad he had found a way to lighten the mood. Honestly, that song was depressing as _fuck_.

“Techno-”

“Oh my god-”

“You-”

“Stop-”

The voices spoke over each other as they tried to rein in their laughter.

Techno tilted his head up to the sky, a smile that was barely noticeable grazing his features as he listened to them fight for air.

“Haaaaaahhh,” One of the voices sighed out when they got over their laughing fit. “So yeah... that was fun, wasn’t it, guys?” They chuckled quietly.

The other voice laughed before humming in agreement and going on to talk animatedly about how amazing someone named “Dolly” was; with the first voice agreeing wholeheartedly.

While they talked obsessively about this person Techno had never heard of before, he stooped down to rest on his knees as he tilted his head at the dog in front of him still. For some reason, the dog hadn’t left. Weird behavior, but Techno sings with voices only he can hear on the regular, so he doesn’t think he can talk.

Shaking his head, he stood up again, turning around to continue searching.

He still has no idea what he’s searching for, though. 

As he walks around, he feels a slight tug forwards when he goes farther to the right than he had before. The tugging gets stronger as he continues in that direction, making him barely notice the dog following him. As he gets closer, he realizes that the tugging sensation is actually a song. It twists through the air, surrounding him as he walks closer to the source.

Techno walks towards the pull of song for what could be hours, he doesn’t know. It’s all he can do to focus on making his body move forwards and not succumb to becoming a statue as he listens to the notes soaring through the air towards him.

Eventually, the song slows and the pull recedes from his mind and body, allowing him to look around at where it brought him. He’s standing in the middle of what looks like a small garden, immersed in sunlight and missing the massive amounts of snow the rest of the forest was experiencing.

The garden was complete with partially crumbled stone walls encircling the area, grown-over stone paths winding around, animal statues scattered around seemingly haphazardly, and hundreds upon thousands of different flora and fauna he has never seen before. Granted, he doesn’t know too much about the different kinds of flowers there are in the world, but still, the little pieces of nature seem to belong to another world in their beauty. 

He turned in his spot, taking in the entirety of the garden. There were vines covering the walls and statues, with little buds of light purple, dark blue and yellow flowers growing off the vines. Around his feet, the ground is littered with star shaped flowers that have baby pink petals. To his left, there's another patch of similar-looking flowers, but they’re a mix of green and an almost teal-looking color instead of the pale pink.

Techno’s eyes widened as he looked to his right, where a statue stood tall. It was a statue of a badger laying on its pedestal asleep, and instead of being covered in vines, it was completely clean, aside from a little moss on the pedestal. Surrounding it in a perfect circle was a ring of rich purple colored orchids.

For some reason, he recognizes the flower type, but brushes it off as he walks towards them. He bends down, feeling compelled, and carefully plucks two of the flowers from their ring; holding them in his hand as he looks down at them with an emotion he can’t place. He then reaches out and places his empty hand on the badger. 

“Thank you,” He whispers to it, the reason unknown, even to himself.

“Thank you,” The voices mumble in sync after him.

Techno turns around, gently removing his hand from the statue and walking away from it. He bends down again when he passes the star shaped flowers. He picks a few of them as well, just two of each color. He continues walking out of the garden, staying on the clearly untrodden path. When he stops by one of the crumbling walls, he takes a few of the vine-flowers for his little makeshift bouquet.

He walks out of the garden, feeling the song pick up again, but a subdued version, not something that was trying to drag him back into the garden. He shakes his head to clear it, and notices the dog sitting outside the garden’s walls, waiting patiently in the snow. 

Together, they walk out into the forest, somehow knowing exactly which way is towards home.

— — — — 

As he approaches his house, the dog noses at his hand. He stops and looks at the dog, who is just staring at his hand. His hand, which is still gently clutching the stems of the flowers he had taken earlier. Well, at least he knows now he isn’t completely crazy, he thinks to himself. 

“Never,” One of the voices breathes out as he continues looking at the flowers.

It’s the first thing they’ve said the entire trip home.

He moves as quietly as possible up to his home, and enters much the same way. He cocks his head to listen for movement in the house before remembering; he’s not a dog. He glares at the dog next to him, who, coincidentally, has his head cocked.

Techno rolls his eyes, and walks silently into the house. He passes the kitchen, only slightly curious about the lump of... food? in the trash. He doesn’t check what it is, mostly because he can guess it was Wil’s creation from earlier. He guesses it failed.

He continues on through the house and opens Wil’s door, checking to make sure the man is passed out so he move on to Tommy’s room before the guilt can catch up to him in full force. Wilbur is face down on top of his bed, shivering slightly from the cold.

Techno sighs, and takes off his cloak to lay it gently on top of Wil. The man immediately snuggles into it, ignoring how damp the fabric is. Almost running out of the room at the sight, Techno waits outside the door to listen for any sounds of his quick escape waking the other. When he hears nothing, he lets out a silent sigh of relief. Turning, he lets himself into Tommy’s room, the flowers still clutched in his hand. Tommy is covered in what looks like every blanket Techno owns, including those from his own bed. His light snoring fills the room as Techno moves over to his bedside table. Removing the white jasmine from the table, he grabs a small jar that he then fills with the water in Tommy’s little watering bucket he has by his bed for the jasmine, and plops the mini-bouquet he had been holding into the jar. After arranging them to look fairly decent, he slinks quietly out of the room. 

Retreating to his own room, he locks the door and lays himself on his bed, the dog immediately curling up with him and monopolizing all the bed space. Normally, Techno would _not_ tolerate that, but he’s so tired he doesn’t even realize he still hasn’t fully faced and accepted the events that occurred just a few hours ago in this very house.

The voices decide that this is the moment to sing a favorite song of theirs. A song known to Techno only as their “lullaby”, in a language he does not know. A dead language, he thinks.

If Techno’s honest, sometimes this song is the only thing allowing him rest in trying times. Trying times; times such as these. He lets his body go slack, permitting his body to relax and shut down for the night as he listens, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly and then out just as slowly.

It always starts off slow, and never builds in speed but slowly in strength instead. This time is no different.

_“Возьми меня, люби меня, укрой_

_Той пеленой, что мы с тобой создали вдвоём_

_Возьми меня, люби меня, укрой_

_Той пеленой, что мы с тобой создали вдвоём…”_

Techno passes out that night with his face buried in thick fur and a soft lullaby sung in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian song lyrics translation (I think):  
> "Take me, love me, hide me  
> The veil that you and I have created together  
> Take me, love me, hide me  
> The veil that you and I have created together…”
> 
> Yeah... so I take Russian and French- you might end up seeing more songs in those languages later on because of it, hope ya dont mind!


	7. Feel The Ghost In Your Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> APPARENTLY ALL I KNOW HOW TO WRITE IS TECHNO GETTING LOST IN MUSIC SO HERE HAVE ANOTHER IG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God help me I'm really trying to write something other than... well, this, and ITS NOT WORKING :'D  
> Next chapter is a Tommy POV though :)  
> Maybe a Wilbur POV later on?  
> Idk how to write either of them though so eek
> 
> Songs:  
> Paranoia by Neoni  
> Flowers In December by Mazzy Star

Techno has not been avoiding the other two people residing in his home.

Nope, not even a little bit.

He totally hasn’t been sneaking out of the house when he knows they're still asleep in the mornings and coming back into the house through his window at night. That's weird, he’d never do that.

“Except that's exactly what you’ve been doing,” A voice grumbled tiredly in his ear as he reaches his upper body out of his window to delicately grab hold of the drainpipe.

“Alright, so what? It’s not like I’m scared of them or anythin’.” Techno scoffed back. 

“This is, like, the worst way to escape, too.” The other voice piped in, frustrated.

“I’m not escaping.” Techno growled under his breath before sliding down the pipe and landing in the thick snow below it.

“...Sure.” The first voice agreed slowly.

“I’m not!”

“Well. Anyway, even if you aren’t, it looks like you are.”

“You’re, like, really scary to other people, man.” The second voice starts, “They would find this hilarious and lose all respect and/or fear for you if they saw this!” They continued, giggling.

Techno frowned, leaning down and tucking his trousers further into his boots.

“Whatever,” He said as he stood back up. 

He turned his head, gesturing at the dog that had just appeared beside him to follow him, before turning his head back around and beginning to trudge his way through snow he knows will end up covering his tracks. He hiked towards the woods on the opposite side of the house (away from the stables), and listened to the voices do their thing in his head. 

Techno’s not even going anywhere. Recently he’s been hunting or walking around to find a potential new area for his home. (He can't stay in this one, he realized a few days ago. There’s too much of a risk of him hurting one of the others.)

At that moment, the voices decided to scream-sing lyrics to yet another random song that had popped into… their conscious.

(Do they share a conscience?) 

(They don't, right?)

...Distracting himself from that thought, Techno tunes into his own personal radio. One he never asked for, by the way.

_“The houses around me_

_Are filled with people who panic._

_They hear the noise and the static,_

_And then we all become frantic.”_

As he rests against a tree for a second- already deep into the woods- and cautiously lets himself melt into the song, still afraid of what might happen if he lets himself be immersed in it like before.

_“We hear the omens and legends,_

_We're praising gold and our pleasures,_

_We're looking over our shoulders,_

_Pretend we got it together.”_

He feels himself start to move without his input, and slams his eyes open as his body shudders to a halt and falls to its knees in the cold snow.

_“Draw the blinds,_

_Check under your bed._

_Hide your gold,_

_And hold your breath.”_

The voices continue, even as he gasps for air. Even as he holds his hands to his chest and neck to feel for his heartbeat. The dog walks up to him, shoving its snout into his side.

_“Feel the ghost_

_In your chest._

_Check your pulse,_

_You're scared to death.”_

Trying to calm himself, he stares at the snow at his feet, blinding and white as he tries to regulate his breathing.

_Para-paranoia,_

_You know what's coming for ya._

_Venom in your blood,_

_And there's no one here to warn ya.”_

After what feels like an eternity, he finally scraps together enough energy to lift his head and take deeper breaths.

_“Para-paranoia_

_You've been here before.”_

_Ya can lock up all your doors,_

_But there's a phantom in your foyer.”_

The song continues on, leaving Techno caught in its after-current. Running his hands through the dog's fur helps ground him though, and he soon finds himself removed from the song entirely. Instead, for the first time in a while, he is able to just take it in and listen. Too scared to close his eyes during it, he stands and continues walking around the forest.

He’s not doing anything specific, not even area searching today. He doesn’t feel like hunting, and he didn’t bring any of his usual equipment. 

He wishes he had brought it. If he brings back food, then he has a reason to be there, with his brothers, even if they don’t see each other. Honestly, he’s a little shocked that they haven’t left yet. 

It’s probably because it’s the dead of winter and they don't know how to survive outside in these conditions, Techno muses.

The dog walking next to him nudges his hand, alerting him to a change around them. He doesn’t yet know what it was, but suddenly he really wants to kill something, so he hopes it's an animal.

Standing stock-still, weapon he doesn’t remember getting out gripped in hand, he listens to the wind whip past his face and the trees rustle with it, searching for anything that stands out. 

He doesn’t remember anything after that.

— — — — 

A few hours later, Techno is walking home, a plentiful bounty dragging behind him. He’s scared, and doesn’t remember how he got any of it, but he trudged onwards nonetheless. He’s surprised the dog hasn’t tried to eat any of it, but maybe that’s because earlier it had sniffed the meat and Techno had let out a sharp series of whistle notes in warning. At the time, he hadn’t even noticed he had done it. The only reason he knew _now_ was because the voices yelled at him for not telling them he could whistle a few minutes after it happened.

He approaches the house, and this time drags himself and his spoils to the front door instead of climbing up through his window as he had been prone to doing lately. He nudges the door open with his foot. The dog tries to grab the leg of a small deer, and Techno gives it a sharp look that it seems to flinch slightly at before dragging the body towards the kitchen. He huffs, and starts to pick up the rest of the pile of animal bodies. Finally getting all, or most of them, in his arms, he starts for the kitchen as well. As he approaches, he notices the dog sitting on the kitchen floor with its head cocked at the ceiling. Techno looks up, confused, and hears a muffled voice through the wood.

Sighing, he turns to put the meat away.

“I think that’s Wil,” One of the voices pipes up, unsure.

“No, that’s definitely Wilbur.” The second voice confirms.

Techno sighs again, and tries harder to put everything away as quickly and as quietly as possible. Emphasis on the quickly, though. He really doesn’t want to bump into his brother, and this way, if he hears something that's alright, because Techno’ll have left already. 

Rushing out of the kitchen- _ugh, he still has his boots on-_ Techno makes a break for his room. His room is in the back of the house, and Wil’s room is right over the kitchen. Wil had made Tommy and his rooms just a few days ago. Tommy’s was already half-done, courtesy of Techno. He had heard Wil sleep-ranting to himself a couple nights ago about how terrible it was of Techno to leave Tommy with half a bedroom and he himself without one entirely. Techno had sniffled a bit that night, not going to lie. 

No, he didn’t cry, he sniffled. Like a cold.

Anyway, Tommy had apparently wanted to help, but Wil had been adamant that his injuries would make him more of a harmful presence than a helpful one. 

Techno doesn’t hear anything as he passes Wil’s door, making him run faster. No sound is always something to be wary of, but at the moment, Techno is mostly worried about how loud it makes his steps sound.

He sweeps into his room, waits a second for the dog to follow, then quickly shuts the door and then locks it. All this while making sure he’s being very quiet, of course.

Hearing no footsteps or displaced air outside his room, he turns around and stands facing his window. It’s still open, from when he forgot to close it that morning. Something that wasn’t how it was that morning, however, are the _vines_ crawling into his room through the window. They’re moving extremely slowly and it probably took them all day to get to his window, but they're still _moving_. The leaves attached to them shift ever so slightly closer to him, and the wind blowing into his room seems to aid the vines’ growth. 

There’s a melody on that wind, a melody Techno knows, though it is simultaneously familiar and foreign. The wind shoves at Techno’s face, pushing waves of sound over him. The voices pick it up at the same time as Techno, and he take a deep breath in and closes his eyes. 

_“Before I let you down again,_

_I just want to see you in your eyes.”_

Both Techno and the voices feel the tides of sound crash through them as they open their mouths and sing.

They sing lyrics they hadn’t known they knew. 

_“I would have taken everything out on you,_

_I only thought you could understand.”_

With every strum of the guitar, every note from the harmonica, they can feel a tiny pulling sensation at their beings. When they allow the sensation to pull and take from somewhere within themselves, they can then feel a small sense of peace. 

_“They say every man goes blind in his heart,_

_And they say everybody steals somebody's heart away.”_

As they continue singing, the pulling and taking starts to hurt somewhere deep inside them.

_“And I've got nothing more to say about it,_

_Nothing more than you would me.”_

There’s a circle of energy surrounding them that they’ve never felt before. They’re fairly certain it’s never been there before. 

_“Send me a flower of your December._

_Save me a drink of your candy wine.”_

Unable to pull from themselves anymore, they allow themselves to pull from that mysterious energy around them. As they change the direction of the now incessant pull, the pain is slowly washed away with the flow of the song. 

_“I've got just one thing I can't give you,_

_Just one more thing of mine.”_

The ground beneath Techno’s feet disappears, and he sighs in relief. The ground had started to feel hot, burning into the soles of his boots and hurting his feet.

Techno extends his arms, opening them to the world, and gives a small relaxed smile as an instrumental part allows the voices and him a pause from singing. All the while, his hair moves slowly around in the air near his face from the wind, gently tickling him.

_“They say every man goes blind in his heart._

_They say everybody steals somebody's heart away._

_And I've been wondering why you let me dow_ _n,_

_And I've been taking it all for granted.”_

As the song dwindles out of existence, the room surrounding them finally feels completely peaceful at last.

Techno feels his chin fall against his chest, his arms fall down to his sides, and focuses on breathing in and out. 

The scent of spring carried on a sharp winter's wind the only thing he can smell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh  
> well  
> I hope u have a great day/afternoon/night!


	8. Fade Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Tommy POV and- don't worry- Techno's still singing :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, this kicked my ass. My mental health is so shit right now buttttt my birthday is next week so we're very excited!  
> Please enjoy and LET ME KNOW IF SOMETHING DOESN'T MAKE SENSE BECAUSE I DIDN'T EDIT THIS AND IT'S LIKE 1 AM RIGHT NOW  
> okay luv ya <3
> 
> Songs:  
> 1) Dying in LA - Panic! At The Disco  
> 2) Her Life - Two Feet
> 
> Sorry- uh just btw Tommy gets soooo OOC but it's kinda for a bigger plot so don't hate me please  
> there's your warning :)

**Tommy POV:**

There was a small bang in the silence of the house as a door was closed rather roughly. Tommy, who looked at Wilbur with mischief in his eyes and a dangerous smile on his face, tilted his head towards the door in an excited “Should we go check it out?” fashion.

Wilbur, who had just spent like, an hour lecturing Tommy on how to be “fucking safe”, glared at him. They were in Wilbur’s room, and had been for that whole hour he was lecturing. Tommy thought it was unnecessary, but apparently Wilbur’s room was the only safe room in the house for a “gremlin child like you”. See, Tommy had wanted to find out if he could make a boomerang and master it. But as soon as he had made the blasted thing, Wilbur had come storming into his room, yelling at him to burn it. Then he had dragged Tommy into his room and started yelling at him about safety, as if he hadn’t just asked the boy to burn something wooden _in the middle of his room_ with _no protection_ _there if he dropped the thing and the house went up in flames._

Anyway, all that to say that Wilbur was still a little peeved at Tommy for almost hurting himself badly again (It wouldn't have been that bad, Tommy probably would have just ended up with a shit ton of splinters, calm down Wilbur-). But Wilbur nodded his head stiffly and stood up anyway. When Tommy moved to follow, Wilbur practically shoved him into the bed he had been sat on and stared him down.

“If you end up injured somehow during this little trip,” Wilbur started, dead serious, “I’ll feed Clementine to that huge wolf that’s been hanging around here lately.”

Tommy gasped.

“Wil-” He tried to interject.

“I don’t care if it’s even just a fucking splinter.” Wilbur continued in a low and harsh whisper.

Tommy gulped and looked away before laughing nervously, “Wil, stop being overdramatic, it’ll be fine!”

One final warning glare from Wilbur and he was let off the bed, immediately bounding towards the door of Wilbur’s room. Wilbur followed, a bit more carefully, pointed one finger to his left and one to his right, effectively asking which way the sound had come from, and Tommy pointed to the left. Their eyes followed where he was pointing, and froze. He was pointing directly towards Techno’s room. Unknown to both parties, fear was starting to cloud their senses as they walked closer.

They approached the door slowly, and pressed their ears to the door to listen for sounds of an angry piglin. They could hear something, but it didn’t sound angry, or even really like Techno.

“What if it’s an intruder?” Tommy whispered to Wilbur. He was proud of his use of the word “intruder”. It made him sound like a police officer, he thought. Or a detective...

“Then we deal with them before Techno finds out there was even someone in the house,” Wilbur replied, determined.

“Fuck, yeah, he’d probably kill us after he killed them.” Tommy shivered at the thought.

Wilbur put his hand on the doorknob, moved it a tad, and removed his hand with a shake of his head.

Together, they put their hands on the wood of the door, ready to break it down if need be. No matter how mad Techno would be that his door was broken.

“One, two… three!” Wilbur whispered.

On three, they shove with all their might. The door didn’t budge.

They tried two more times before it finally gave in. 

“Yes!” Tommy yells in victory, forgetting to be quiet for a moment.

Wilbur normally would have shushed him, but he’s too busy staring at something in the middle of the room. Tommy followed his gaze, and he could feel his jaw drop. It’s Tech, who looks like a ghost, to put it bluntly. They’re both now staring wide-eyed at their brother. Techno, who is standing in his room- no, _hovering_ , and facing away from the door with his head tucked into his chin. He looks dead, honestly. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s _fucking FLOATING_ and you can see how the flowers in the room seem to breathe in and out with him, Tommy would probably assume he was either dead or in a really bad coma. 

“Is he… a ghost?” Tommy asks under his breath, so quiet he knew Wilbur didn’t hear it.

What happened? How’d Techno do that?

Can Tommy learn to do that? Without looking dead, of course.

“What the fuck,” Tommy breathed out in shock, at a normal volume this time.

Around Techno, the room is filled with flora & fauna- variants of nature they had never seen beforehand are beautiful and vibrant and _wrong_ . There's soft-looking green grass coming out of the floor, little puddles of crystal clear water scattered around randomly the grass, and flower-covered vines climbing up the walls. He distantly takes note of the fact that the petals of the flowers have a faint glow to them that gets brighter the closer they are to Techno. Something deep inside him says that this scene isn’t his to see, this isn’t his space, he should leave… but he can’t, they’re here for the _wrong person_ , they aren’t supposed to be responding to _Techno-_

Shaking his head, he looked away from the enigmatic sight only to notice that Techno’s window was open and there was an unknown smell coming from outside. 

As Wilbur finally seems to let his eyes travel away from Techno, Tommy sees him look at him. He’s moved to the window, cautious but curious as to what was outside and causing the smell. Wilbur seems alarmed as he runs over, careful of the flowers beneath his feet. 

Looking out, Tommy comes to the revelation that the smell is coming from the zoo. 

Genuinely! There, beneath Techno’s window, are hundreds of thousands of animals. Okay, maybe not that many. But a shit ton nonetheless. 

Tommy’s not even sure some of those _things_ are animals, either. There’s this weird striped horse-thing, a weird big rat thing with a tennis racket for a tail and buck teeth, and a ginormous bird. That’s not all of them, either- just the weirdest. 

Oh, but the bird doesn’t seem that weird, right? Well the thing’s as big as a dog and could shriek. Earth-shattering shrieks came out of that thing. It was terrifying and Tommy hopes he never sees it ever again. Still, as he looks down at these weird animals and they look back, he feels a strange sense of control. It’s as if he knows that if he were to tell them to do something, they would do it. 

Logically, it’s a very dumb idea. 

But it’s something Tommy strongly feels in his gut for the first time in his life, and Tommy isn’t sure how he feels about that.

As the pair continue to stare at the animals, they hear a faint groan and the distinct sound of a body unceremoniously hitting the ground. 

— — — — 

**Techno POV:**

Techno has never been someone who comes out of sleep slowly. He has never experienced that slow ‘coming to’ in his body that he’s heard described to him from others. He knows it could be something to do with trauma and paranoia, but he doesn’t like to linger on those thoughts. He always opens his eyes, sits up, and removes his covers. His senses kick into overdrive immediately, so he always has an innate understanding of what is and isn't around him. He knows everything that is happening, and slowly, throughout the day, his senses fade back to normal.

So when Techno opens his eyes, he’s incredibly confused that he can’t seem to understand anything that’s happening around him. He’s laying on something soft; grass, he thinks. Which... what? Because last he knew, he was in his room. His very _wooden_ room. Feeling his fingers and upper body slowly seem to defrost, he sits up. He can barely hear a faint humming that belongs to someone he only briefly remembers, but he doesn’t know where the sound is coming from. Looking around does him no favors either, as he’s blinded by light. Shutting his eyes quickly, he breathes in sharply as his body tenses at the onslaught of stimulus, and tries to grasp onto something, an emotion, a memory... 

A song. 

“We’ve got it, Techno.” A voice sounds in his ear soothingly.

“Focus while we do all the hard work, ok?” Another voice gently jokes.

He nods, not trusting his voice.

_"The moment you arrived, they built you up._

_The sun was in your eyes, you couldn't believe it."_

Letting his body hold itself tense for a few moments, he abruptly lets that tension go.

_"Riches all around, you're walking._

_Stars are on the ground, you start to believe it."_

As he listens, he can feel the maybe-hallucinated grass rub against his legs. 

_"Every face along the boulevard is a dreamer just like you."_

_You looked at death in a tarot card, and you saw what you had to do."_

He’s so unsure of anything right now, the rhythm of the song the only thing stopping him from feeling like he’s going to implode.

_“But nobody knows you now, when you're dying in LA._

_And nobody owes you now, when you're dying in LA.”_

Not explode, no. Implode. He would implode. 

_“When you're dying in LA,_

_When you're dying in LA,”_

Because whatever’s happening to him is so strong, so contained to himself that he can’t envision it going outwards, away from him.

_“The power, the power, the power..._

_Oh, the power, the power, the power..."_

They pause, then softly belt the next line.

_"Of LA…”_

He listens to the voices drift off from the song even though they didn't finish, and finds he doesn’t want to open his eyes any time soon. Even though his mind is relatively clear now, he still feels shaken and weary. 

A creak of something wooden interrupts his internal examination, making him tense all over again. He hears a gasp from behind him, and his fingers curl into his palms as he realizes he doesn’t have any weapons on him. Footsteps race towards him, only slowing down as they most likely caught sight of his face. He didn’t know what emotions were shown on it, but it made the person pause and continue with caution.

“Hey, Tech.”

That was Tommy. Why was Tommy here?

Where is here…?

“Sorry for running at you without warning, big man.”

Tommy spoke softly, but something was off about his tone.

Still not feeling able (but wanting to, wanting so badly) to talk, Techno merely nodded his head in confused acknowledgement. 

“...”

Tommy was silent, but Techno could feel his eyes burning into Techno’s closed ones with determination. Techno didn’t know what was happening. He wanted to ask, but…

Well. 

He realizes now that the creak of wood earlier was a door, but now all he knows is he’s near a door. He could be outside a house, but where? Nowhere near them has grass. Not like this. And why would Tommy be there? Distantly, he knows that the lack of wind is concerning, but he’s not sure why. 

Finally, he comes to the conclusion that he isn't outside. But then where is he? He could be in their greenhouse? That doesn't make sense either, though. Tommy had made him put an iron door on that because he was afraid someone would steal the flowers. Also, there’s very little grass in there. And it’s unbearably hot in there, even for Techno sometimes. 

Unnervingly, Tommy is still silent. He’s sat down sometime during Techno’s confused inner musings, and when Techno notices, it’s like a switch is flipped in his brain. He can feel the tension and worry slip from his being, and he finally finds the courage to open his eyes.

The first thing he notices is that it’s darker than it was before, thankfully. The second thing he notices is that Tommy has his eyes closed, and his head tilted to the ground. He looks almost serene. There’s a bit of worry and something else Techno can’t identify written into his posture and face, but he mostly looks content and happy.

Techno opens his mouth, just a little, and Tommy whips his head to him immediately. For some reason, that doesn’t unnerve Techno as much as he thinks it maybe should have. It, in a way, feels… _right_ to have Tommy completely and acutely aware of Techno’s every move. 

Techno feels himself smile a little before clearing his throat quietly. 

“Where-” he coughs, “Where are we?”

Tommy stares at him for a moment in what Techno would have normally thought was Tommy simply not hearing or understanding his words. Right now though, he only recognizes it as contemplative silence.

Tommy slowly tilts his head to the side, his eyes soft but narrowing by the second. It looks a bit like concern, but Techno hasn’t had anyone look at him like that in a long time. Everyone knew he could take care of himself, and they knew he would glare at them menacingly if they suggested otherwise. 

He wasn’t feeling very menacing at the moment.

Tommy finally opens his mouth, saying, “We’re in your room,” He continues with, “Or what used to be your room, I suppose.”

Techno dares a glance around what he now recognizes as a room- _his_ room- and notices the abundance of flowers and other nature-like things completely covering his room. Not even the ceiling was safe apparently; he thinks when he spots it covered in vines.

He is so confused. 

This isn't how the room is supposed to look, and yet- and yet here it is. The room looks right, it feels _right_ ; his mind arguing that it’s wrong against the growing feeling of home in his chest the longer he looks at it. He stares, and the feeling becomes almost all-consuming; the feeling of safety, of inherent _rightness_ sit in his being where they haven't sat for years.

“You should rest some more,” Tommy suggests lightly, knocking him from his thoughts.

He nods, still feeling lost and confused by the whole situation. Tommy smiles, a little thing, much like Techno’s. It strikes him suddenly, how calm Tommy is being. How adult and responsible his actions are. He feels a pang in his chest, but doesn’t put any effort into determining what it is as Tommy was standing up, careful of the flowers surrounding them. 

Still in that quiet tone, he looks at Techno and asks, “Do you want to stay here?” he looks at the room, at the flora-covered bed; “Or would you like to sleep somewhere else?”

Techno looks at him, deliberating. Finally, he reaches out a hand towards the boy and answers, “I’ll take the couch.”

Tommy takes his hand, silently pulling him up with strength a recently wounded person shouldn’t have.

“How’re the wounds?” Techno ventures at the reminder.

“All gone, I think,” Tommy replies somewhat sullenly, “I really wanted a sick scar even if I didn’t know what I got it from.”

He pouts as they exit the room, the overwhelming smell of nature slowly receding back into the room as they leave.

Techno huffs good-naturedly at the return of Tommy’s normal attitude. 

They walk down the hallway to the living room, where Wilbur is standing staring at the fireplace, completely still. 

“Hey Wil, I've got Tech with me this time,” Tommy tells the frozen figure of his eldest brother.

There’s no response from the man, and Tommy turns back to Techno shrugging. “He’s been like that for a few hours. Honestly, I don’t know how he hasn’t collapsed.” Tommy explains, sounding indifferent.

“I hope Wilbur’s okay…” One of the voices whispers, clearly feeling more concerned than Tommy.

The other voice doesn't reply.

— — — — 

When Techno’s stomach makes itself known rather loudly at Tommy’s mention of food, they move into the kitchen and start preparing a small dinner. 

After eating in companionable silence, the two notice a sound coming from outside. Tommy rushes to the door, excitedly opening the door and letting a familiar-looking wolf in. Techno raises an eyebrow as the wolf immediately starts coming at him. It stops just short of being in his personal space, and sits down, its tail wagging. 

“Aw man, why doesn't she do that for me? She must really like you,” Tommy whines in defeat.

“She’s a she?” Techno asks.

“Yeah, can’t you tell?”

“No? Why would I be able to tell tha' kinda thing?”

“I thought Big Man Technoblade was an animal whisperer!” Tommy laughs. 

“I guess not, though, huh? Looks like _I_ am just the biggest...” He trails off as he looks over Techno’s left shoulder at the doorway to the kitchen.

Before Techno can turn around to see what he was looking at, Tommy exclaims loudly that he was going to go to bed. Confused, Techno watches him bound up the stairs without so much as a glance back. A small _woof_ makes him turn his head back to the wolf, and he sees it- _her_ sitting on the table where he was currently sitting. She lies down, crossing her paws and placing her head on them to stare at him.

It’s not that late, so he shuffles a bit closer, deciding to pet her for the meantime. Rather quickly, he finds himself content to sit, pet her soft fur and listen to her tiny snores as she falls asleep in peace. 

Next thing he knows, he’s peeling his face off of the table and grimacing at the groan of his joints as he moves for the first time in what feels like forever. Sighing, he picks himself up slowly from his seat and moves into the living room. Thankfully, Wil has left from his spot, so Techno has no qualms about laying down on the couch and passing out.

Before he can though, he hears the faint sounds of his brother's voices rising in what he thinks is anger. In his sleep-addled mind, he makes the decision to go try and break up their fight, despite his weeks of plotting ways to stay out of their sights.

As he walks up the stairs, he hears his name. _That_ snaps him awake. Wilbur’s talking about him, his voice scared and angry. He hears Wilbur explaining to Tommy what it felt like to be completely under what he assumes was Techno’s (however accidental) control, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. Hearing Wilbur’s recollection of those events that day, the thing he’s been _running from for weeks-_ he can’t take it. He doesn’t quite catch Tommy’s reply, but he sounds hurt and scared.

He faintly feels like he’s floating away from his body, shutting off his emotions. Then he actually _is_ floating away from his body, and he watches his body walk itself back to the couch, cover itself with a blanket, and pass out. 

He stays over it, watching the stairs, but no one ever comes down. He doesn’t know what that would have made him feel if he had his emotions, but he guesses it might have hurt him in some way. 

After a few hours, he gets bored and goes outside. He floats himself up to the roof and feels vibrations cover the night around him as he sings softly to himself. 

_“Everyday she sees her life, fade away and pass her by.”_

A bird lands next to him, unaware of his presence or music weaving through the air.

_“What can she do?”_

He watches the stars twinkle.

_“What can she do?”_

He repeats, the sky winking at his question.

_“Wants to leave her lonely town; wants to go and fuck around.”_

He loves the slow flow of the song as it encircles him.

_“What can she do?”_

A tree sheds a few leaves that swim in the air towards him.

_“What can she do?”_

He repeats again.

_“It's her life,”_

This time, he repeats the sentence thrice more as he watches the leaves pass through him, continuing their journey on.

_“Wants to quit all of her jobs, sell her house and move along.”_

He gazes back at the stars, their beauty ensnaring him.

_“What can she do?”_

_“What can she do?”_

He takes a deep breath before carrying on.

_“Lives in dreams and self-told lies, sees the world through jaded eyes.”_

He stares as the sun starts to make its way back into the sky.

_“What can she do?”_

_“What can she do?”_

His words seem to echo around him, even as birds and leaves pass through him unknowingly.

_“It's her life,”_

He's waiting in the warm peace of dawn for something.

_“It's her life,”_

He ends it slowly, allowing the last verse to carry out.

_“It's her life…”_

He doesn't know what he's waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Techno gets an out of body experience? Yeah... I didn't know what do to at the end so that's what y'all are gettin' for right now. He'll go back don't worry.


	9. On A Winter's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno goes deep diving for dreams and has a small heart-to-heart with Wilbur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so yeah... this sucks :D  
> Lemme know what y'all think is up but also how i did with Wilbur cuz DAMN.  
> I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE PEOPLE  
> also i'm sorry for the wack upload scheduleeee
> 
> Songs!  
> 1) California Dreaming - The Mamas & The Papas  
> 2) Pilate’s Dream - Barry Dennen  
> 3)We'll Meet Again - Vera Lynn
> 
> THERES PLAYLIST NOW :D  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3sqGio6NlWc9u1ISwx98UL?si=_9lvyWuETSW1A3H3QNOkcQ

Techno doesn’t dream. When he was younger, he didn't even know what dreaming was. Phil had explained it to him slowly in terms he knew he would know, but it had still taken Techno years to finally understand the general concept. 

— — — — 

_“_ _The way your brain is designed to make sense of things is by telling you stories, and the stories it tells when you’re asleep are your dreams.” Phil had told him one night after Techno asked._

_“But why can’t it just tell you when you’re awake?” Techno had questioned in return._

_“Well, it can’t do this while you’re awake because it’s too busy making sure you don’t walk into walls or pour water on your head when you meant to pour it in your mouth.” Phil had explained._

_“So is it just… someone in your head, telling you stories while you sleep?”_

_“No, not like listening to someone tell you a story; like you’re in the story and it’s playing out like real life.”_

_“An’ sometimes you can’t remember the… stories?” Techno had remembered Phil telling him that once. It sounded sad._

_“Yeah!” Phil had said proudly as he ruffled Techno’s hair._

— — — — 

The voices had tried to help in their own way by singing Techno songs they knew about dreams or dreaming. It didn’t help, but he now knows a few songs about dreaming…?

— — — — 

_“Here! I just remembered one!” One of the voices had yelled out one day, completely out of the blue._

_“What are you talking about?” The other voice had asked, not sounding all that curious but merely accepting of their fate._

_“I remembered a song about dreaming!” The other voice had giggled happily, proud of themselves._

_Techno had sighed before giving them the go-ahead to sing it. He had nothing better to do today anyway, he supposed._

_“I’ll just sing the part that mentions dreaming, okay? Cool.” Not waiting for confirmation, the first voice started singing._

_“_ _California dreaming,”_

_The second voice had repeated the words back, “California dreaming,”_

_“On such a winter's day.” The first voice continued before stopping._

_“Is that it?” Techno had asked, confused._

_“That's all that mentions dreaming, yeah.” The voice had confirmed._

_“Underwhelming, I know,” The second voice had drawled, “I have a better one.”_

_“Go on then, sing it!” The first voice had encouraged._

_"Alright, hold your horses," The second voice had replied before letting the song out._

_“_ _I dreamed I met a Galilean, a most amazing man._

_He had that look you very rarely find, the haunting, hunted kind.”_

_The voice had started._

_“I asked him to say what had happened, how it all began?_

_I asked again, he never said a word- as if he hadn't heard.”_

_Techno had been confused, the story not making sense to him yet._

_“And next, the room was full of wild and angry men,_

_They seemed to hate this man- they fell on him, and then disappeared again.”_

_Techno had seen the events woven into shapes and and story falling into place in his mind with words for the first time, and it was fascinating._

_“Then I saw thousands of millions crying for this man,_

_And then I heard them mentioning my name,_

_And leaving me the blame…”_

_The voice had trailed off, the song finished._

_“Alright, I admit that was a better example than mine,” The first voice had consented jokingly._

_“Wow…” Techno had breathed out his awe, one of the voices cooed at him while the other had just sat in proud silence._

— — — — 

And so for years, try as he might, he could never figure out how to dream. He wasn’t sad about it, especially as he got older, but it had sounded fun when he was young. Whenever Wilbur or Tommy mention a weird dream they’ve had, he simply nods and listens to them try to remember it in its entirety. He still didn’t understand dreaming though.

So how is it that Techno is near certain he’s dreaming right now?

He feels like he’s watching snippets of a story play out but from someone else's point of view. It’s disorienting, and he knows he won’t ever know the full story. Unless it's a real story... It feels familiar, like he’s seen it before. There are many people around him, but he never truly sees them. It's like they’re just an idea of a person; he knows they’re there, but only because they have to be. It just makes sense.

At one point he thinks he’s in some kind of ballroom. It’s here that he can finally make out his first person. Well, vaguely. There are very few details to this person; they’re taller than many of the other people there (but still standing shorter than him by a few centimeters), he somehow knows they're smirking and their red-gold eyes narrowing with mischief even though he can’t make out their face, and they have almost-white blond hair that has flames dancing in it. For some reason, it doesn’t strike him as odd. In fact, he knows he gives a genuine smile to the person as they make loud conversation without needing any kind of response from him. 

The part of the story skips and suddenly he’s standing in what looks like a glorious white throne room. That's where he sees the next person he can make out. The first thing he notices is that this person is very short. He feels the person crane their head up at him with a blinding smile. Their hair is dark and wavy and it parts as they look up at him, allowing him to catch a brief glimpse of their glowing amber eyes before they’re taking him out of the room. They don't say anything, just lead him away with an arm locked with his. He feels a detached sort of happiness that he knows isn’t his own as they bound down the hallway together.

The scene changes again, but this time he isn't… anywhere. It’s the void, and it’s all-consuming. 

— — — — 

Techno wakes up gasping and disoriented. On their own, they aren't all that strange to wake up to, but together? Techno has never felt like that before. 

He also wakes up to a silent house. Glancing at the window to his right, he sees it’s dark outside. That confuses him even more, because last he knew he was a spectral form sitting on the roof and singing to himself as he watched the sunrise. He’s not going to question the spectral form thing right now. He feels physically and emotionally exhausted even though he hasn’t yet done anything today. His limbs are heavy and his head is fuzzy as he tries to pick his consciousness apart from the consciousness of the person he was in the dream. It’s their emotional exhaustion, he thinks. Even as he finally manages to separate himself from their consciousness and break those emotions fully off from himself, he still feels physically exhausted. 

He forces himself up off the couch, and glances out the window again, ignoring how his body screams at him not to move or it would shut down.

“Techno, you have to be careful,” One of the voices says worriedly as he falls to the ground groaning slightly.

“I won’t lie- you look like shit.” The other helpfully chimes in.

“An’ ‘ow wou’d you kno’?” Techno slurs back, still not having complete control over his tongue yet and the pain not helping.

“That’s low, man.” The voice replies, somehow sounding indifferent and offended at the same time.

“Guys-” The other voice tries to interject.

“H- _Hey_ . Is it _you_ feelin’ ‘is pain?!” Techno argues.

“How would _you_ know if it was?” The voice says, mocking Techno.

“GUYS!” The first voice finally yells, grabbing their attention and making them shut up.

Techno holds his head in his hands as he tries to make the sudden massive headache he has go away.

“Sorry, Techno-” The voice says quickly before continuing, “Tommy’s here.”

Techno immediately tries to sober up as fast as possible, wanting to get out of the house, away from the pain he’s caused his brothers, away from their hatred and fear.

He tries in vain to get off the ground, but is stopped in his efforts by a rough voice. Its tone shakes him to his core and he hasn’t even processed the words that it came with yet.

“What’s happening,,,?”

He sounds so lost, so confused, so scared-

Techno opens his eyes _(when did they close?)_ to look at Tommy’s own terrified ones. The blue is stormy and lost, with tears welling up the longer he stares at Techno.

“Why-” He cuts himself off with a small hiccup, “Why are there-” He tries again.

“Why are there... _voices_ around you, Techno?” He finally says, his own voice broken and almost despondent.

Techno’s breath catches in his throat, how did Tommy know they were there? He hadn’t ever seriously told anyone about the voices, not even his family!

“Wha’?” He whispered, frightened.

“What is happening?” One of the voices bewilderedly gasps in response.

Tommy looks like he’s been struck when they speak. Techno lets out a large sigh, reigning in his fears and worries for now; more concerned about the boy’s mental state after the revelation than his own.

“Si’d’wn” He mumbles, and gestures vaguely with a pain-filled arm to one of the couches near him. He coughs, and tries to speak properly this time, “Sit. Down,” He manages after a little while.

“You… can _hear_ … them?” He asks, trying to push out the words.

Tommy looks even more distraught now and he’s crying even harder- oh god, what should Techno do- 

“What’s happening Tech?” The boy practically bawls.

Techno looks at him, debating. Not that it was really his place to do so, but they were _his_ voices. 

“I don’ know.” He replies finally, looking away from the boy. He feels those eyes burn into the side of his face as he continues, “I’ve had ‘em with me for...ever, I think. We don’ really know what it is or why they're there, but they are.” He glances at Tommy, straight into those ice-cold eyes that make him freeze in place.

“You’re the firs’ person able to hear ‘em aside from me,” He explains. 

He thinks Tommy’s still crying eyes soften at the confession, but he doesn’t know what to do with that information. Tommy gets up slowly, wiping his eyes and nose. Then he makes his way over to Techno, eyes still focused completely on him, and sits on the ground beside him. He reaches out a hand, letting it hang between them. Techno looks at him, confused, and doesn’t do anything. Tommy huffs, before grabbing his hand and shaking it only somewhat firmly.

“Hello, my name is Tommy. It’s nice to meet you.” Tommy says formally.

When techno just looks at him and the voices are still silent, he huffs and sniffles a bit, and says, “What’re your names, mysterious voices I’ve never heard before and am only slightly scared don’t exist and I’m going crazy by making you up,?”

One of the voices giggles a bit before the other voice pipes up in answer. “We don’t have names, Tommy.”

The first voice gasps out, “Rude!” and promptly tells Tommy that it is lovely to meet him but yes, they do not strictly have names.

“That’s so sad…” Tommy whispers before standing up and putting his hands on his hips as he declares decisively, “Well, we’ll just have to find your names then.”

The voices talk and laugh with Tommy as he racks his brain for names he thinks might be theirs. Techno never puts in his own thoughts, because he has none. He thinks his brain has broken from this interaction. Is he hallucinating? Is this still a dream? It feels different than his earlier dream, though.

“It’s not a dream, Techno,” One of the voices murmurs placatingly to him as Tommy and the other voice go rapid-fire back and forth with the most ridiculous names they could think of; “It’s real. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Techno nods, catching Tommy's attention, and suddenly Tommy yells, “Thank you, Tech! God, this one really has no taste,” He shakes his head in disappointment before continuing, “At least one of you knows when something’s good!”

Techno is completely lost, but he quirks a little smile at Tommy’s carefree attitude anyway.

— — — — 

  
  


“What do I do?”

Techno halts in place, his body freezing up as he hears Wilbur’s broken voice. He was heading to his room, and passed Wilbur’s room on the way.

“I don’t want him to be hurt… but how can I prevent it when I don’t know what the _fuck_ is happening to him?!”

“What is he talking about?” One of the voices questions at hearing Wilbur continue on.

“Nah, _who_ is he talking about?” The other voice chimes in, “Or to, actually… yeah, I want to know more about who he’s talking _to_ than who he’s talking _about_.” They say decidedly.

“He’s probably talking about you Techno,” The first voice guesses and informs him unnecessarily. 

Techno would answer them; tell them to shut up, but Wilbur’s voice stops him. The other man sounds distraught, and Techno doesn’t want him to know that he’s here, especially if it is him Wilbur’s talking about. For all he knows, the mere sight of Techno could send him onto hysterics. He simply doesn’t know.

He has a suspicion that the day Tommy found him on his floor surrounded by flowers, it wasn’t just Tommy there. And then, to add evidence to his current theory that he might send Wilbur into a right state if he saw him, if Wilbur was in fact in Techno’s room during that fiasco, then it was Techno that made him disassociate for what was apparently _hours_. 

“What is happening…?” Wilbur cries out, literally cries- his voice was thick with tears and snot. Techno doesn’t know when he started crying, but his entire being seizes up at the sound. He hears a thud on the other side of the door, and suddenly he’s moving. He’s walking forwards toward Wil’s room, footsteps solid with purpose. His hand reaches out, ready to pull the door open and comfort his brother, but stops at the last second. He somehow reins himself in, reminding himself that as the person Wilbur is crying about, he might not want to see him right now. Which is completely understandable, considering...

Techno doesn’t ever want _that_ to happen to Wilbur ever again. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t want whatever happened that day to happen to him again either, but that’s a worry currently being put on the back burner.

Techno turns on his heel, planning on continuing down the hallway, away from the protective and anguished thoughts fogging his mind, away from Wil’s desperate and broken voice- just… _away from it all_.

Suddenly, he feels a hand grabbing the back of his shirt, fingers warm and solid. He stiffens, unprepared for the abrupt sensation. The hand pulls at his shirt, dragging him with it. There’s a sniff behind him as he crosses the threshold of a room.

He knows where he is now. 

And who has the death grip on his shirt.

“Wilbur?” He asks without turning around.

“Hey, Tech,” Comes a sniffled reply as Wilbur lets go of his shirt.

“What’s happenin’...?" Techno questions after a moment of silence. He’s still standing facing the closed door of Wilbur’s room, stiff as a board. He wonders if Wilbur brought him in here to use as a punching bag, taking out his frustrations and anger on Techno. Or maybe…?

“I thought we should talk.” Wilbur says, confirming what Techno hadn’t dared think.

Wilbur wants to talk. 

Okay, Techno thinks he can do that.

Maybe.

Shit, he’s not ready for this.

“I can hear you freaking out from here,” Wilbur calls out in a slightly sturdier voice, sounding slightly farther away. 

“Be a big boy, Techno!” One of the voices yells at him as Wilbur sighs, exasperated, “Tech, turn around.”

As Techno turns (slowly, might he add), he breathes out harshly and forcefully loosens his tense muscles in preparation. He makes sure his breathing is even, steady and full in case Wilbur decides to deck him as soon as he’s fully turned around. He makes eye contact with Wilbur and feels his body tense up again immediately. Wil’s eyes are red-rimmed, his smile watery and his body posture is trying to make him look more sturdy than he really feels. Techno knows, because that’s what his body posture looks like right now too. Internally, he breathes a sigh of relief because Wil certainly doesn’t _look_ like he’s going to punch Techno right now.

Wil looks at him contemplatively in silence. ( _When did he start calling Wilbur ‘Wil’?_ )

Techno stares, before opening his mouth slowly- cautiously- to give a small, “Hullo, Wil.”

Wil’s face practically lights up, giving him a happy (relieved?) smile; a few tears spilling over onto his cheeks from his closed eyes that always accompany a smile like that.

Now Techno's confused, wasn’t Wil mad at him? He thought Wil wanted him gone…?

( _Gone, gone, gone,_ ** _gone_** _. They don’t want you here,_ ** _Techno._** His name is spit out like a bad tasting fruit. _Leave before you make them hate you even_ ** _more._** )

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Techno feels arms encircle his waist in a hug. Wil lets out a small sniff with the action. Techno slowly lets himself sink into the hug, and hesitantly places his arms around the other man, feeling Wil’s slightly colder body try to get closer.

“What’s happening to you?” Wil asks after a few moments.

Techno considers the question, considers lying or brushing it off before remembering that this is _Wil_ asking.

”I don’t know,” His voice rumbles out in the stagnant air of the room, “An’ it’s terrifyin’.” He adds after a second of thought. He just heard Wil cry, he should return that vulnerability with a bit of his own.

“It was for me too,” Wil agrees, “I kept thinking that you had become someth- someone else; that you were gone.”

“...I’m sorry for scarin’ you,” Techno apologizes, dread filling his stomach as he thinks about his next words. “Maybe I should go.”

Wil blinks up at him, removing his arms from around Techno before taking a step back and nodding, looking at the ground. “If that’s what you want.” He says, trying and failing to not sound too crestfallen.

“Do you…” Techno breaks off, unsure. Wil stays silent, continuing to look at the ground. Techno gulps, choosing to lay it all out and deal with the backlash later. “Do you… _want_ me to stay?” Wil keeps his head down, so Techno is immediately put on guard, watching Wil's movements carefully still not convinced the other didn't want to hit him. After a second, Wil nods before trying to answer nonchalantly, “Yeah that’d be alright, I guess.” He shrugs, eyes light and relieved as he grabs Techno and pulls him onto his bed.

They sit next to each other, talking somewhat awkwardly about their thoughts and ideas on the situation for the next few hours. The entire time, the voices whispered to themselves about the sounds surrounding Wil like a cloud of Death. An omen, they thought. Techno tried to ignore them and tune in completely to what Wil was saying. At some point Wil yawned, leaning his head against the wall and grabbing a blanket. 

“Should I leave?” Techno asked, his voice just short of a whisper.

“Uh…” Wil answered eloquently, his eyes barely open as he squints at Techno. 

“Night, Wil.” Techno chuckled as he stood up to move Wil into a more comfortable position on the bed. As he was walking away from Wil, he felt something hit his head. Startled, he turned around, only to find a sleepily smirking Wil. 

“You stay until I tell you that you can leave.” Wil orders, a twinkle in his eye.

“Only if you get off your high-horse,” Techno grumbles even as he moves back onto the bed. He positions himself on the end of the bed, leaning against the wall. Wil grins and throws him a blanket before turning on his side and closing his eyes. His breathing over the next thirty minutes doesn’t even out, telling Techno he still hasn’t gone to sleep.

“Sing,” One of the voices offers, sounding just as tired as Techno feels as he yawns for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

The suggestion sucks, in his opinion.

“Why?! It’s a good idea and used to put Tommy to sleep quickly all the time!” The same voice yells at him. While the voices might have a point, singing is a new and fresh wound between the two of them right now, and plus, Techno’s not going to sing his brother to sleep like he’s a baby, ok?

After a second of silence, the voice apologizes, and they return to listening to the wind rustling the trees and the house creaking. He closes his eyes, trying to fall asleep. He’s so used to the voices singing him to sleep that the relative silence in his head is unnerving.

“Do you want us to sing?” One voice offers. Techno opens his eyes and nods gratefully. They start up a familiar melody, singing in hushed tones now that they know Tommy might wake up if they’re too loud.

 _“_ _We'll meet again; don't know where, don't know when_

_But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.”_

Techno feels his body start to relax as he closes his eyes and rolls his head to the side.

_“Keep smiling through, just like you always do_

_'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.”_

As he feels his breathing start to even out, he hears Wil’s breath do the same.

_“So will you please say "Hello" to the folks that I know, t_ _ell them I won't be long._

_T_ _hey'll be happy to know that as you saw me go,_ _I was singing this song.”_

He drifts into complete darkness, happy and content as the song carries him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the love of (insert whatever you worship or don't) please don't hate too bad on my Wilbur

**Author's Note:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED


End file.
